


The Darkest Side of Me

by PuffleHuff90



Series: The Darkest Side of Me [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Captivity, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mind Games, Non-graphic non-con elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 18:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20363395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffleHuff90/pseuds/PuffleHuff90
Summary: "We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on." What if Harry had tortured Bellatrix that night at the Ministry? Would the darker side finally consume him? Voldemort wants to find out how he can use this new side of Harry to his advantage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I published this story a few years ago, but I've been having problems with the original so I decided just to repost it. I have 10 chapters so far, but will be adding more when I can. Please excuse the grammatical and spelling errors. I'm editing from my phone and sometimes I don't catch things. Hope you enjoy! Please leave me some feedback!

That insufferable cackling bounced off every wall, rebounding back into his ringing ears as blind rage drove him forward. Around each turn he could hear the pop of spells being sent back at him, sending him darting back around the corner. Still he charged on, knowing soon enough he would catch up to her. Then what? What could be possibly do to make her pay for the pain she had caused him?

Rounding the corner, Harry sprinted into the atrium where he could see Bellatrix's sneering face waiting. He barely had time to register what she was doing before a flash of red wizzed past his ear, causing him to dive behind the glittering fountain. Another spell sent shattered concrete and other debris raining down on his head, as parts of the fountain exploded. Aiming his wand over his shoulder, he sent his own spells blindly in her direction. A sharp laugh pierced the quiet.

"What's wrong little Harry? Lost your nerve so soon?" Her taunt was thick with that child like tone that set his nerves on edge. Gritting his teeth, he spun out from his hiding spot, wand at the ready. Dodging a spell, he shouted the first curse that came to his clouded mind.

"Crucio!"

His voice sounded unfamiliar as it echoed off each wall. Watching, he saw Bellatrix fall to the ground in a tangle of shaking arms and legs. Rushing over, the adrenalin pumping through his shaking legs, Harry could tell that the effects wouldn't last long. She wasn't twitching and screaming like Neville had earlier, in fact by the time he had reached her she was already regaining her crazed composure.

A smirk crossed her face as she turned to look up at him from her vulnerable place on the cold floor. " Is that all you've got Potter," Bellatrix taunted in a slightly winded tone. "First time using an unforgivable, eh? How does it make the little boy feel? Big, bad Potter can't even hold the curse for longer than a second." The sneer on her face only grew as his grip tightened on the handle of his wand. He had her trapped like a spider beneath his foot, and now what? What could he possibly do that would make things right?

Bellatrix let out another cackle and made to rise to her feet, but Harry thrust his wand in her direction. "Don't ," he whispered, his hand shaking noticeably now. The smile on her face broadened, but she remained still.

"What are you going to do Harry? Hmm," she goaded "You going to kill me? I don't think you have what it takes boy." He could hear the childish tone in her voice, and his thoughts immediately went to his godfather. His dead godfather. She killed him and now she was at his mercy, and what was she doing? Acting like he was no threat. All the rage he had felt for the past few years began to build inside him, as he thought of all the people she had killed. The Longbottoms, who this woman had tortured into insanity, were lying in St. Mungos while their son sat by knowing they would never recognize him again. Suddenly Harry knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to cause her as much pain as she had caused all those families over the years. He wanted her to know what it was like to suffer. Yet, a small voice rang in the back of his head warning him of the thin line he was about to cross.

Raising his wand, he barely had time to comprehend what he was doing before his voice was ringing out over the empty room. "CRUCIO!" A wave of light erupted from the end of his wand, and he just had time to register the look of pure shock on Lestrange's face before it contorted onto a grimacing scream.

Her blood curdling cries were a complete contrast to the maniacal laughs he had heard earlier. Watching as she curled in on herself, Harry couldn't help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction. He was doing what hundreds of families wished they could do to this wretch of a woman. A slight prickle in his scar flared at this thought. Ignoring it, he watch with a blank stare as Bellatrix lost the ability to scream, her mouth merely forming a soundless gape. Her fingernails were scraping at the floor violently, some beginning to flake off as she tried hopelessly to escape her pain. He was just beginning to wonder how much longer she would last when a cold hand gripped his shoulder.

The prickle in his scar that he had been ignoring flared to a blinding pain causing his knees to buckle under him. His wand rolled across the stone floor with a clatter that seemed tremendously loud in that moment. A whisper came in his ear, barely understandable over his hammering heart. "I think that will do Mr. Potter," it said in a cool hiss that sent a rush of hot breath over his ear and a chill down his spine.

Harry felt the long fingers release him, and he fell forward onto his hands with a huff of air. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath. In front of him , an image of a cloaked man pushing Bellatrix's shaking body with his foot came swimming into focus. She gave a start before crawling, unsteadily and slowly, to her saviors feet.

"M..my Lo..." Her voice was cracked and weak, so much so that she couldn't form a simple sentence. What had he done? He had nearly tortured a woman out of her mind. Hell he had tortured someone! He felt like retching as he watched her clutch at the hem of Voldemort's robes like a beggar looking for food. And there he stood looking down on her in disgust, not unlike how Harry, himself, had looked at her a few minutes ago. No. He would not compare himself to that man.

"Get off me woman," the Dark Lord spat, kicking out a foot that sent her scrambling backwards. "You're luck you have such a merciful Lord. I could have easily let the boy torture you to death. Not that you don't deserve it." Bellatrix made to thank Voldemort, but he quickly cut her off. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Harry couldn't tell if Bellatrix was bowing or just unable to stand fully erect, but he expected the latter, as she apparated on the spot leaving him alone with his enemy. Surely someone from the Order would be here shortly. They had to have followed him after he took chase. However, he soon realized it would be to late.

Voldemort clasped his hands behind his back, and let out a soft chuckle. "You've surprised me, Harry and that is no easy feat," he said just barely above a whisper, but to Harry it might as well have been an ear splitting scream. Still, the man didn't turn to face the boy. Seizing the opportunity, Harry clambered to his feet and scanned the room for his missing wand. "Looking for something?" The Dark Lord turned on his heal, and with a gleeful smile waved Harry's wand in a playful manner. How could he have gotten it so quickly?

Cursing, Harry could only return to the one hope that remained. Where was Lupin? Surely he couldn't have been that far behind. Another soft chuckle broke his thoughts, and Harry raised his emerald eyes to meet the blazing red gaze that seemed to know what he was thinking. "What seems to be so funny?" the boy snapped in irritation.

Voldemort only smirked, shaking his bald head slightly. "It seems your friends are having lift troubles." Harry's heart sunk and it must have shown on his face. "No matter. We will be done here before they can break through." The older wizard paced leisurely towards Harry, who instinctively took a few retreating steps until his back collided with a solid pillar.

Voldemort stopped inches from him, a broad smile playing across his lipless mouth. "You know I came here tonight to kill you, Harry. After smashing that prophecy, how could i let you live? However," he paused here looking the boy up and down as if to size him up. For some reason this left Harry feeling more uneasy than before. What could be worse than killing him? The man reached up to touch the thin scar on the young wizard's forehead, however Harry immediate reacted. Putting his arm up, Harry made to push Voldemort's outstretched hand away from him only to have his wrist caught in a vise like grip between those icy fingers.

Pulling the boy's wrist around until the muscles were stretched to their limits, Voldemort couldn't help but smile at the effort Harry put into not letting a scream escape his tight lips. "I think I've found a new use for you Potter. A little...let's call it an experiment. An experiment on just how far you're willing to stretch that Gryffindor loyalty that everyone praises you for." The sick smile only added to the bile that was beginning to creep its way up the back of Harry's throat.

The pain in his scar was searing to a new high, and his vision began to loose focus on the situation. He could feel his conscious slipping. However, just as fast as the pain had come on it disappeared. Sliding down the brick column,Harry gasped for air, while looking around to see what had caught his assaulter's attention.

He didn't have to search long before his eyes landed on a figure in the middle of the vast room, his grey beard swaying slightly from side to side. Harry had never been more happy to see the Headmaster, but by the look on his face Harry could tell the situation was far from over. But surely Dumbledore would have a plan.

Glaring at each other from across the room, neither made a sound or move for several minutes. Dumbledore was the first to break the silence. "It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," he said simply, but his demeanor never changed. Braced for the attack that was inevitable.

Voldemort merely grinned his famous smile, bringing to mind the former boyish form he use to have. "Oh I think not Dumbledore. You see I have everything to gain from this encounter." With that simple statement he reached down with lightning reflexes and entwined his skelton fingers into Harry's messy black locks. Letting out sharp gasp, Harry could only try and keep his head still, least he loose a chunk of hair and scalp.

In that moment a look of weary grief passed over the Headmaster's face making him, if possible, look older than he ever had. Looking away from Voldemort's triumphant face, his blue eyes came to rest on Harry's pleading face. Voldemort's high pitched laugh pierced the quite Atrium as he saw his victory was at hand. "You should have seen this coming you old fool. Instead, by ignoring the boy all year, you have set him up for this."

Dumbledore didn't react to this, his eyes still surveying the boy who trying his best to break free from his captures' hold. "Of course you are right Tom," he agreed slowly as if each word pained him. Taking a cautious step forward, Dumbledore switched his gaze back to the Dark Lord who immediately went on the defensive. Tightening his hold on Harry's hair, he tilted the boy's head back to expose his vulnerable throat. Placing his wand to the pale skin, Voldemort watched as Dumbledore stopped his advance. "I've grown foolish in my old age, but I won't let you take that out on.."

"HARRY!"

The shrill cry cut through Dumbledore's words bringing the attention to the lift entrance where several people stood apparently frozen in shock. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Remus holding a faint looking Hermione who was on the verge of tears. She was about to say something else when a eruption of green fire burst from nearly every fireplace. Out of the nearest flame stepped a very exasperated Cornelius Fudge, who had apparently thrown on a cloak over his nightgown. Upon seeing the scene before him, the squat wizard came to an immediate halt, mouth agape.

Smirking, Voldemort turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "Well old friend it seems that our time has come. I hope you don't mind if I take your little hero with me." He gave Harry's head a little pull, and added with a hiss "We have other arrangements to attend to."

Harry had just enough time to see several people make a dash for him before the room began to fade away.


	2. Chapter 2

POP

Harry was pushed forward into the darkness, stumbling onto his hands and knees. A searing pain erupted in his palms as splinters embedded deep in his skin. His hands and trousers were stained with what seemed to be several years of dirt and grime that had built up on the old wooden floors he was now kneeling on. A cool breeze whistled through the cracks in the delapitated walls, chilling his sweat drenched forehead. Glancing up, he saw an old ornate door directly in front of him and he scrambled for it. He grabbed the handle and frantically began to pull and twist it ,willing it to open to no avail. He quickly changed his attention to the windows that had been borded shut, tugging at the dry rotted wood only to find them as solid as if they had been nailed in yesterday. He could feel his heart hammering in chest and his breath came in desperate gasps as the truth sank in. He was trapped.

A soft chuckle behind him reminded him that he was not alone and dread feeled his heart as he turned to face his captor. It was the first time he was able to see the room he was imprisoned in in its entirety. He was standing in what looked to be the foyer of an old manor that had been vacant for sometime. Graffiti and tattered painting adorned the filth covered walls and a chandelier hung above twisting creakily in the draft. In both directions hallways led off into separate wings of the house and directly in the middle stood a grand staircase. He could see the elegant banister and the hand crafted spindles even in the moonlit room. It was then that he realized exactly where they were.

"Finally starting to put the pieces together,eh Harry?" The cold voice finally broke the silence and Harry was forced to turn his gaze to the slender figure leaning casually against the banister. A smirk played across those thin white lips as Voldemort shook his head. "You really think I would bring you to a place that you could escape from? You must think me a fool my dear boy."

Pushing himself away from the rickety staircase, Voldemort made his way to the corridor on his right. " Come let's talk somewhere with less of a draft" he said without so much as a glance back.Harry remained rooted in his spot, unwilling to follow directions from his enemy. He could see the light of a fire now burning from one of the many rooms down the hall. "There's no use in being defiant this early in the game, Harry. You can't stand there all night after all." The Dark Lord's voice rang through the empty house and deep down Harry knew he was right.

Regaining his nerve, the boy cautiously followed the sound of the crackling fire. Turning into the third door on the left, he found Voldemort sitting at a mahogany desk starring over his steepled boney fingers. Glancing around, he could see hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dust covered book lining the room in ceiling high shelves. "Please sit." Voldemort was motioning to a high-back chair directly across the desk from him. Without arguing, Harry walked the length of the room and sunk into the moldy fabric, dust billowing out as he sat down. "Now that's a good lad," Voldemort said with a wide sneer.

"So," he began, leaning forward a bit further in his chair. "I assume you're wondering why I've brought you here to my muggle father's house instead of returning to the rest of the Death Eaters." He paused here as if to see if Harry would answer him. When he saw no response would come, he pressed on with a slight sigh. "You see I knew if I were to bring you back in the midst of all those Death Eaters you wouldn't survive till morning. I..."

"So you're saying you can't control your own slaves?" Harry interjected, speaking for the first time that night. His voice was cracked but held no fear of interrupting the dark wizard. He watched as Voldemort narrowed his red eyes but his smirk remained.

"You do realize you were on the brink of torturing Bellatrix into insanity?" The glee in his voice was almost palpable and Harry had to look away as shame washed over him. He didn't need reminding of the pain he had just caused someone. "Besides that, you have many enemies that would jump at the chance to kill you if I were to bring you back there without warning."

It was Harry's turn to let out a soft chuckle. "Something you find funny in that," Voldmeort asked, his smile dropping a fraction.

Harry lifted his gaze to meet those red eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Its just, I've had an enemy for fifteen years and yet I'm still here." He let a smile play across his face as he watched Voldemort's fall completely away. He could see the anger flash in those eyes and prepared himself for the repercussion.

But his enemy remained earily calm as a smile returned to his pale face. "Harry, may I ask how many times you've stopped my plans?" Before the boy could answer Voldemort continued on. "And how many of those times have you had help? You see, I get the notion that you think yourself invincible." Harry held his gaze unwilling to back down. He knew he had had help, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of doing things himself. From the corner of his eye he could see Voldemort pulling his wand from inside his cloak. "Do you think I could kill you right now? No wand, no friends, and no mother to die in your place."

Harry dropped his stare back to the floor. Fear was gripping his stomach, knowing that any second could be his last. He had no wand, no possible chance of a fair fight. If Voldemort were to attack him now, there would be no chance of survival. "Just do it then," he whispered unable to let the Dark Lord see the panic in his eyes. If he was going to die here, he wasn't about to let the man see just how scared he was.

"I'm sorry what was that my boy? Why don't you look at me when you speak? Isn't that the respectful thing to do?" Harry could here the joy in the voice ahead of him but couldn't bring himself to look. Voldemort had him exactly where he wanted, and Harry wasn't going to play along with his sick game. An invisible force gripped his chin, forcing his head painfully upwards until he couldn't help but stare into those glowing eyes. "There, that's better now isn't it? Now answer my question. Do you think I could kill you right now?"

Harry could feel Voldemort's excitement pulsing through his body, mixing with his own overwhelming fear. The combination made his head swim, and he had to fight off a wave of nausea that threatened to make him sick. The grip on his chin tightened to an excruciating hold and Harry was forced to grit his teeth in pain. "Yes," was all he was able to say through his clamped teeth.

With a renewed smile Voldemort waved his wand and Harry felt the pressure on his chin dissipate immediately. Voldemort unexpectedly stood from his chair and rounded the desk, coming to a stop directly in front of Harry. Leaning back against the desk, he started down at the boy with a pondering expression on his face. "I'm not going to kill you tonight, Harry. I've got too many questions that need answering." Harry made to respond by saying that he wasn't about to cooperate, but Voldemort cut him off. "Before you refuse me, know that its not your life that I'll be threatening. After all you have plenty of friends to choose from. There's no way for the Order to protect them all."

Harry's mouth shut quickly. He was more than willing to die rather than to participate in whatever Voldemort had planned, but how could he possibly risk the lives of his friends. Weighing his options, he could see no way out at that moment. Hesitantly, he looked back up at the man and asked, "What exactly do you want?"

With an uneven sneer, Voldemort leaned over until he was almost nose to nose with Harry. Studying his emerald eyes for an uncomfortable minute, Voldemort finally spoke. "Funny how ones mind works, isn't it Harry?" The boy could feel excitement working its way back into his system, and no matter how hard he fought it, the feeling only seemed to grow. An image broke into his mind, taking the place of Voldemort's snake like face. 

He was back in the Ministry and standing feet from him was Sirius. An immense amount of joy swept over him and he began to run to the shaggy haired man. A blinding red light crossed his path, hitting his Godfather directly in the chest. It was then Harry realized he was being forced to watch Sirius's death again. Wanting to shout, Harry found his voice heavy on his tongue. All he could do is watch as Sirius stumbled into the vail again. Grief began to creep into heart but behind that was an unexplainable feeling, on that almost felt like delight. It was as if he was getting enjoyment from watching the last real family he had disappear forever.

Stumbling to his knees, Harry fought the feeling that was spreading like wildfire in his brain. He would not allow it to overcome him. However, no matter how hard he tried a smile began to creep on his face and a soft laughter broke from his lips; or was it sobbing. The two mixed together until he was gagging on his own emotions.

Reality hit him hard as the scene in his head dematerialized and he found himself doubled over in the same filthy chair, blood leaking from his lower lip that he had bit in attempt to control his laughter. Tears were streaking down his cheeks, yet a smile was on his bloody lips. Above him he could hear a slight laughter that mimicked his own. "Oh the range of human emotions." Voldemort's voice was full glee as he grabbed a fist full of Harry's hair and pulled his shaking body upright.

"I've been wanting to test that connection we have for several months now," the Dark Lord said, leaning in close again. "I knew I could send images to your mind, but I had no idea I could manipulate your emotions in such a way." He was now inches from Harry's face, staring into those bright green eyes as if reading an instruction manual.

Harry, who had reserved his anger all night, could finally feel it boiling to the top. This whole night; the loss of his Godfather, being kidnapped, being experimented on, it was all Voldemort's fault. He would not sit here and be examined like some insect trapped in a jar. Sucking in as much blood from his busted lip as possible, Harry spit the mixture into Voldemort's snake like face.

For the first time that night, Voldemort's jubilant expression was lost as rage overcame him. Harry barely had time to see those bone like fingers tighten on the handle of his wand before it was shoved violently between two of his ribs. "Crucio" was the last thing he heard before the ringing in his ears began. White hot fire spread through his bones as he choked back the scream rising in his dry throat. Raking his finger nails into the wooden arms of the chair, Harry thrashed backwards into the chair as if trying to get always from the pain. Cold fingers attached to his chin like a vice grip, sending lightning hot flashes into his scar. The agony was so immense he waited for his head to split open, eyes shut tight. A anguishing scream broke through his cracked lips and he silently begged for death to over take him.

The curse was lifted from his body leaving him doubled over, his chest heaving frantically in the desperate search to find air. He felt his glasses slip from his sweat drenched face to the floor with a light clatter. In place of the pain a numb feeling spread through his body making his stomach turn in upheaval. Silence overtook them leaving only the crackle of the fire and Harry's shallow breath to feel the room.

A sigh broke the silence around them, as Voldemort regained his calm composure. Through the blur and tears,Harry could see the tall wizard bending to reclaim the cracked glasses from the grime covered floor. "I had rather hoped we could have skipped this part, Harry" The Dark Lord whispered. Grabbing ahold of Harry's shoulder he pushed him roughly erect against the back of the rigid chair, sending jolts of pain down his body. Voldmeort then placed the boys glasses gently back upon the bridge of his nose, taking a minute to stare into those teary green eyes before raising the corner of his mouth in a half smile. "Although, I can't say I don't enjoy watching you squirm in agony," he said with a retreating step.

Harry, who was still regaining his nerve, held his captore's gaze unwilling to seem as broken as he felt."I have to return to my Death Eaters tonight and see what damage you and your foolish friends have done. You will stay here until…"

"You can't keep me here," the boy interrupted, each word causing him apparent discomfort as he clutched at his injured ribs.

Voldemort gritted his teeth in clear frustration of being cut off. The playful demeanor he had taken on early in the night had all but evaporated. "My dear boy," he began, each word punctuated with an emence hatred. "Do I need to remind you of who is in control here? As I stated earlier this house is protected in every nook and cranny. I my self have made sure of it. No way out, no one to hear you. You're stuck here." He paused, taking a long look at the boy in front of him, letting those words sink in.

"Now, like I was saying, you will stay here. Every room is free to your exploration and you will find, though delapitated and unclean, many beds for you to sleep in." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was he actually expected to sleep in a bed that hadn't been cleaned in years? What about food? Was he expected to starve? Opening his mouth to protesr, he was cut off by a piercing look. "Once I have spoken with my Death Eaters and consequences have been put into place, I will send someone to check in on you."

Voldemort stood, straightened his cloak, and gave the astonished boy one last glance. "I do hope our next meeting goes smoother, Harry. You'll learn it is much easier to cooperate." With this, he flicked his wand and dissapperated with a whirl of dust, leaving Harry alone in the vast manor.


	3. Chapter 3

The Headmaster's office was almost completely dark, lit only by the red embers of a fire that had long ago burnt itself out. Candles that had been left to burn were now only piles of hardened wax on the floor. Some of the past headmasters were snoozing in their portraits while others seemed on edge, fiddling or exchanging anxious whispers.

An eruption of emerald fire burst from the harth, and a slender figure stepped out with a whirl of ash. It stood there for a moment, head bent fingers pressed tightly into the corner of each eye, before making its way wearily to the ornate chair behind the desk. Every portrait was awake now, eyeing the old man as he sat down with a long sigh. After a moment of silent stares, each afraid to be the first to speak, one broke the silence. "Dumbledore what has.…"

Albus was quick to raise a withered hand, silencing the question before collapsing his head onto his steepled fingers. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been such a fool?

Another burst of fire roused him from his thoughts, though he did not acknowledge his new guest. He expected he would have an abundance of visitors over the next few hours. Slow, precise footsteps approached the front of his desk, and soft creak indicated the person had seated themself in one of the chairs directly in front of the Headmaster.

They sat in silence for what seemed like ages before Dumbledore let out a sigh. "I think it best if I had some time alone to gather…" His sentence was immediately cut short by a soft, yet eerie, chuckle. Eyes opening wide, Albus slowly lifted his head to face what he knew waited before him.

Those gleaming red eyes were bright with excitement and triumph as they pierced into Dumbledore's defeated blue's. "Now now Professor, surely you have enough time to talk with a former student." With this, Voldemort pointed his wand at the door which let out a loud [i]click [/i] as it locked, and then turned his attention to the fireplace, making sure no one would interrupt them.

"There now, how about some privacy," he said, turning back to the Headmaster who seemed to be trying his best to keep his calm composure. "Ah, the great, fearless Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort goaded, leaning back in his chair with legs crossed. He had the upper hand here and he knew it. "Is that worry I see in those old eyes, Headmaster?"

Thinking quickly, Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned casually back in his own chair. From the look of them now, anyone could mistake them for mates having a casual chat. "What have done with Harry, Tom?" The question was calm but inside Dumbledore was fighting the urge to yell. He knew it would be some time before anyone would find him here. After all, he wasn't technically the Headmaster anymore.

Voldemort let his gaze drift to the floor as if he were pondering the question. "Who's to say I haven't already killed your boy hero?" he asked confidentially, snapping his attention back to the professor's face. He wanted to see the defeat wash over him as the words sank in. Yet, he was slightly disappointed to see a smile spreading across Dumbledore's lips.

"Come now Tom, we both know that if you had already killed him you would have brought his body with you. It's your biggest downfall Tom, " Dumbledore said, holding Riddle's gaze which no longer held the same glee. "You never pass up an opportunity to gloat."

Voldemort's smile dropped a fraction but he merely shook his head. "You know me to well, Albus but," he paused here, calculating his next words. "Apparently not well enough to know this was coming. You basically delivered the boy to me you old fool. You knew he was having visions, didn't you? " He took a moment to laugh here as Dumbledore dropped his eyes in shame. "And yet you still didn't find it pressing enough to help the poor boy. What's wrong Professor? Did you see something familiar in those emerald eyes?"

It took several minutes for Dumbledore to respond. He remained staring at the multiple unfinished Decrees that littered the top of his former desk, unwilling to see the taunting look in Voldemort's eyes. "I stand by what I said earlier. I've grown extremely foolish in my old age. Looking back on what I should and should not have done will change nothing now. I've learned that all too well." It was here he returned his view back to Riddle's. "I'm willing to make a trade for Harry of course."

Voldemort let out a loud cackle that filled the room. Daybreak was upon them and a grey light was beginning to seep in through an open window. Soon students would be starting their day, unaware of how much things had changed over the course of one night. Unaware that directly above them sat the world's biggest threat.

Leaning forward, Voldemort was still shaking with laughter. "You have nothing to bargain with. Nothing I…"

"I'm talking specifically about myself," Dumbledore interjected.

Voldemort's laughing ceased immediately and his red eyes narrowed. Leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head, he stared at a spot directly above Dumbledore's head. Chewing his bottom lip, he seemed to be weighing his options. A small grin broke out suddenly as if a funny thought had crossed his mind. "Have you ever heard Harry scream, Albus?"

A mixture of anger and nausea overtook Dumbledore as he tried to find the words to say. "Tom I don't-"

Voldemort gave out a soft chuckle, ignoring Dumbledore completely. "The boy tries to be so strong," he pressed on, locking his eyes back on Dumbledore's color drained face . "But that sound he makes, oh that beautiful sound, when his will breaks and that scream that's been building bursts out in a gagged cry. Not to mention the way his body thrashes…"

"STOP!" Dumbledore's hand was now resting on the hilt of his wand, his usual cool composure overtaken by complete rage. "Tell me where he is Tom."

"Or what?" Voldemort whispered propping himself on the edge of the chair, that sick smirk still resting on his thin lips. A quiet settled over them, neither one willing to budge.

A loud pounding came from the door, but neither seemed bothered by it. "Albus! Albus!" came Remus's' panicked voice from the other side.

"It seems that my time is up," Voldemort said, rising to his feet. He started to make his way back to the fireplace.

Dumbledore rose to his feet as well, drawing his wand and taking aim at his former pupil. "Tom please. Let Harry go. I'm begging you to let me take his place." The panic in his voice was now palpable as he watched the wizard stop right outside the harth.

The door shook as Remus threw his body against it repeatedly. Voldemort spun on his heal, eyeing the wand that was pointing at his chest and then resting his gaze on those pleading blue eyes. "It's so nice to see you begging Dumbledore," [b] CRACK [/b] The door began to splinter. It was one hit away from bursting open. "But I think I'll keep the whipping boy. He seems to be more valuable than I first thought." Taking a backwards step, Voldemort stepped into the fireplace as the door splintered open.

Remus stumbled in, wand drawn and breathing rapidly. Turning to fix his aim on the dark wizard in the fireplace, he faltered. "I'll make sure to give Harry your love of course. He seems to think this is all your fault after all," Voldemort sneered.

Taking a hand full of flue powder the wizard raised his arm but before dropping it he couldn't resist one last remark. "Oh, and I'll see if I can get you to one of our torture sessions. You just have to hear him screaming." Before anyone could get a spell off, Voldemort dropped his hand full of powder, disappearing in blaze of green fire.

Dumbledore collapsed back into his chair, face in his hands. In the background he could hear as if coming from far away, Remus shouting, cursing, as he tried to make since of what was going on around them. All Albus could do was think of the damage he had caused. All the wrong choices he had made this year that had led them to this.

A pounding on his desk awoke him from his thoughts, and he raised his head wearily to see Remus leaning forward, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the oak wood. "We can't just sit here Dumbledore! "

Letting out a low sigh, Albus erected himself in his chair. "What would you have me do Remus?" His voice came out calmer than he felt. In all truthfulness, he would rather be the one up shouting, throwing things, anything rather than sitting there helplessly.

Reality began to sink in forcing Lupin to take a seat in Voldemort's former chair. "I don't know. I thought you of all people would have a plan."

"I have all the Order's spies out looking for his location. So far they have had nothing to report on. It would seem that Voldemort hasn't even told his Death Eaters that he has Harry."

A look of panic crossed Remus's face. "Are we sure he's alive? Voldemort could just be toying with us. "

"I'm positive he's alive," Dumbledore quickly reassured him. "If Harry were dead we would surely know it."

A small amount of relief washed over Lupin but not enough to settle the nausea rising in his stomach. "I can be of some help. I'm plugged in with some werewolves that…."

Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping Remus from finishing his offer. "Remus I must implore you to wait until we have more information. They know you are working for the Order and if they were to capture…"

"I can use a polijuice potion. They would never have to know it was me," he pleaded, desperate for a way to feel productive. Yet, the look on Dumbledore's face told him his answer without speaking.

"I'm afraid the only thing left for us to do is wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Three days. It had been three days since he'd eaten a single bite. Three days since he'd heard a voice other than his own. Three days since he'd been left in that musty, run down, hell hole to rot. Worst of all, it had been three days alone with only his nightmares to keep him company.

On day one he'd scoured the whole house looking for any sign of a weak point to make his escape. He'd pulled every loose board, banged on every cracked window, and even looked up the chimney in hopes of finding a way out of his prison. All attempts proved futile though and he ended up collapsing on a filth ridden bed in an upstairs room.

Day two was, if possible, worse than the previous. He began by looking for any source of water or food to sustain the ache in the pit of his stomach and the numbness of his mouth. The closest thing he could come by was a drip that was seeping from a small crack in the attic ceiling. Unfortunately, the taste of tar and rotted wood that mingled in his mouth made it almost unbearable to drink. Gagging, he had been able to force it down for a while before retching it up later on.

By day three he had lost nearly all of his energy. He was sure now that Voldemort had left him there to die a slow death of starvation. In a last attempt, Harry had slid off the bed he'd been sleeping in and began to bang on the nearest window, yelling at the top of his lungs. He prayed for someone in the village to hear him as he screamed until his lungs burned. As failure set in, he'd collapsed back on the bed with a puff of dust surrounding him, his hopes fading with the setting sun.

On day four he awoke with some effort. He willed his eyes to open, staring blankly at the rafters above. "So this is how the Boy Who Lived dies," he croaked out to the empty room. Forcing himself to sit up on the edge of the bed, he fought back the nausea that accompanied the headrush he'd become all to familiar with.

Anger engulfed him as he took deep breaths to steady the spinning room. How could no one have found him by now? They had spies after all. Surely someone had been tipped off as to where he was being held. Maybe Dumbledore was biding his time; using him like some sort of pawn piece. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time.

The rage boiled up in him until he could no longer stand it. Seizing a nearby rickety chair, he swung it wildly against the window before him. Over and over he beat the termite ridden wood against the impenetrable glass, shards of rotten debree flying off in all directions. All the rage and sorrow he'd felt pored out with each swing and ragged cry until weaknesses overtook him and he collapsed to the dusty floor.

"Are you done with your little tantrum now, Potter?" A voice like ice drifted over to him, causing him to jump at the sound. He'd been alone for so long that the unexpected noise was enough to nearly have give him a heart attack.

Rolling to his side with obvious difficulty, he looked to the door to find the source of the voice. He was met with a surprising sight leaning nonchalantly against the rotted door frame. Instead of the snake like face he'd become accustomed to in his nightmares, he found an older version of the prefect he'd met in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago. Thick black hair now topped the once bald head, and a nose had seemingly grown since their last meeting. The only trait that remained was the piercing red eyes that were mocking him silently across the room.

Harry couldn't contain the puff of laughter, as he collapsed onto his back again. Either he was so exhausted from hunger or he was losing his mind, but something seemed funny about seeing Voldemort almost normal in appearance. "Couldn't stand looking in the mirror anymore then? " he asked in a cracked voice, still staring at the ceiling.

"I found it much easier to blend in if the Order has no idea what they're supposed to be looking for," came the off handed reply directly above him. Somehow the Wizard had made his way across the room without a single noise, and was now looking down at Harry with a smug grin. "Now if you don't mind accompanying me to the study, we have some business to tend to."

Harry shut his eyes, taking slow breaths before answering. " You know I don't think I can. I'm feeling a bit peekish. Something about not eating for three days does that to a person." His voice was thick with sarcasm as he dramatically draped his arm across his forehead.

A sharp pain shot through his scalp as he was hoisted mercilessly to his unsteady feet by the hair. Soon after standing he felt a tug behind his navel as they apparated from the small bedroom. The spinning did nothing to help the queasy feeling deep in the pit of his empty stomach or the dizziness when they came to a sudden stop in the downstairs study. Thankfully, he was forced roughly into the winged back chair he had sat in three nights previous.

Voldemort strolled behind the desk and seated himself across from Harry. Producing his wand from inside his cloak, he gave it a simple flick and a small plate of sandwiches appeared along with a goblet of what appeared to be water. Despite his hunger, Harry eyed the food suspiciously. He knew that if Voldemort wanted him dead it was just a curse away, however there could be any number of potions hidden in that food that would be much worse than death.

"Go on and take a sandwich, Harry. I haven't poisoned them," Voldemort said with a generous smile as if reading his mind.

Against his better judgment, and because it felt as if his stomach would consume him, Harry reluctantly reached across the table and took a sandwich from the plate. He was just putting the stale bread to his lips when he was interrupted.

"Of course, there is a price," Voldemort said, a forboading gleam in his red eyes. Before Harry could respond he pressed on. " All I ask is for a look into that mind of yours; no resistance, no walls."

"Fat chance," Harry responded, tossing his sandwich back onto the plate .

Voldemort's smile only broadened as he rose to his feet and circled around behind Harry's chair. The boy felt like he was being stalked by a hungry shark, as he lost sight of the wizard. If the was anything more intimidating than having to face the Dark Lord, it was not being able to see what he was doing.

"Come now, Harry. We both know that on a good day your Occlumency is dismal at best." Voldemort's voice was directly above him now, and two cold hands clamped on either side of his shoulders. Harry repressed a shudder as Voldemort continued. "Imagine how insignificant it will be after not eating for three days. Now, you can give me what I want and be rewarded for it or," he paused here, rubbing Harry's shoulders encouragingly. " Or I can take it with little to no effort. What will it be? "

Harry sat silently picking at a hole in his filthy jeans, debating his options. He hated to admit that Voldemort would get what he was after whether he allowed him or not, but there was no point in denying how weak he had become. How was he suppose to fight the Dark Lord out of his mind when he could barely keep focused on a single thought? Deciding it was best to get some food while the opportunity was there, Harry gave a disinclined nod.

"That a boy," replied Voldemort with a clap on the shoulder. He perched himself on the edge of the desk directly in front of Harry's seat, eyeing him triumphantly. Harry couldn't help but take in that new face staring at him merely inches away. It was hard to imagine that it was even the same wizard he saw reborn at the end of last year. "Now I suggest you brace yourself, Harry. This will not be comfortable."

Without warning, Harry began to see images from his past swirl in front of his eyes. An emmince pressure overtook his head, and he involuntarily began to resist it. "Remember our deal, Potter," came a voice deep inside his mind. With some effort, Harry willed himself to relax against the unseen presence in his head.

The memories came in random sequence. A scruany black haired boy crying in a small dark cupboard. The same boy wailing as his aunt spanked him; a pile of soiled bed sheets littered the floor. An angry teen taunting his bigger cousin, hoping to initiate a fight. A trio of friends laughing beside a warm common room fire. A beautiful young red head girl, offering an encouraging smile.

Harry immediately scrunched his eyes tighter, trying to push the thought from his mind. For some reason the sight of Ginny's warm smile triggered a panic inside him. He didn't want Voldemort to see how much he cared for her, even though he had never truely admitted his feelings for his best friend's sister even to himself. However, it seemed the more he tried to rid his mind of any images of her the more they appeared.

"Ahh,"a voiced hissed in the back of his mind. "Have I hit a soft spot, Harry." The voice seemed amused by how much Harry was struggling against the images now flooding his view. He was standing in the Burrow, the first time he had spoken to Ginny. Then there was quidditch and seeing how brilliant she was at flying. Last came a blurred image of the tinny first year lying lifeless in a damp dungeon, her red hair pillowed around her.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the weight was gone. "Well, well. Miss Weasley has grown into a beautiful young woman, hasn't she?"

Harry, who was doubled over rubbing his aching head, didn't respond. He didn't realize that Voldemort would remember Ginny; after all, it had only been his memory that had possessed her.

"Do you finally have feelings for her, Harry? She was madly in love with you a couple of years ago," he continued in a toying tone, placing a hand on Harry's head. "Maybe I should give her a little visit again. You think she misses her dear old Tom?"

Harry tore his head away from Voldemort's grasp, a surge of anger flowing through him. "You leave her alone,"he said through uneven breaths.

A bemused smile spread across the Dark Lord's face. Reaching out, he took Harry's chin firmly in his thin fingers. "Oh Harry, you can't begin to imagine the secrets I know about your little Ginny. After all, she spent nearly a whole year pouring her soul out to me." His eyes narrowed in excitement as he watched the seed of anger he had planted blossom into uncontrollable rage. The boy was literally shaking with suppressed fury.

Without thinking, Harry slapped the hand away from his chin and rose quickly to his feet, taking hold of the front of Voldemort's robes. With fist clenched tight, he rared back. "If you touch her I'll…" but his words trailed off suddenly. His tongue had become unbearably heavy in his mouth, and the view before him became blurred around the edges. Black dots began to blossom before his eyes, obscuring his vision, and he staggered forwards, collapsing against his enemies chest.

A cold laugh cut through his ragged breathing, as he fought to remain concussion. He could feel Voldemort's hands on either side of him, supporting his limp weight. "You'll do what exactly, Harry?" The voice came directly in his right ear, those thin lips nearly brushing his skin with each word. Harry would have given anything to have the strength to push away. "I love seeing you like this; so ….helpless."

Harry felt his body being shoved backwards into his chair. He could do nothing to control his decent, and landed with a thud, head hitting the solid wood. Leaning forward, head in hands, Harry tried to steady the swirling room around him. He could hear Voldemort moving away from him, an arrogant laugh trailing. "So, Harry we must get down to business. I know that you have been spying in on me throughout the year," he paused here taking a seat back behind the old desk. "What I would like to know is how?"

Harry shook his head, trying to find his voice again. "I... don't," he stopped to clear his dry throat. Looking up, he met those pitiless eyes staring a him. "I don't know. It was never on purpose. Only when you were mad or excited."

Voldemort eyed him skeptically. "But you have seen things through my eyes before. There has to be a connection; surely it work both ways."

Harry merely shrugged. Even if he knew how he was able to see through Voldemort's point of view, he wasn't about to share it with him. No doubt the dark wizard had something evil planned if he could figure it out.

Voldemort steepled his fingers and continued to stare at Harry. It seemed he was looking for some sort of switch or instructions to tell him how to get into the boys mind. After some time, he leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, as if meditating.

Finding the strength to sit up erect in his chair once again, Harry watched for several minutes as Voldemort remained motionless, eyes closed. That's when he saw it. Laying a few inches from Voldemort's hands, unguarded, was a wand.

A flood of excitement washed over Harry, and he had to force himself not to jump for it. Darting his eyes back to Voldemort's emotionless face, he made sure that the wizard's eyes were still closed tight.

[i]What are you going to do with it? There's no way out.[/i] The small voice in the back of his head was right, but he couldn't squander such an opportunity for escape. Slowly, heart racing, he perched himself on the edge of the moth eaten chair, his quidditch reflexes ready to act. With one more deep breath, he plunged his arm forward.

His hand stopped suddenly, fingers just brushing the ornate handle. Gritting his teeth, Harry tried to force his hand past the invisible grasp keeping him from freedom. However, the more he willed his hand to grab hold of the wand, the farther it seemed to retreat.

A cold laugh, reminded Harry he wasn't alone. Snapping his attention back to Voldemort, he saw that his eyes were open again and staring victoriously. "You do see things differently don't you, boy?" he said cooly , confirming Harry's fear. "But, I think you need to be reminded of your place."

Snatching the wand from Harry's grasp, Voldemort gave it a flick that sent Harry spiraling back into his chair which toppled backwards with the force. Rounding the desk, Voldemort stood over the top of Harry, who was desperately trying to find his feet. Another high laugh accompanied the foot that pinned him painfully to the moldy carpet.

Gasping for breath under the weight on his ribs, Harry felt the Cruciatus Curse overtake his body. The more he struggled, the more pressure was put on his burning ribs. He felt that fire spreading over every bone in his body, making it impossible to hold in the cracked screams that broke through his lips. The screaming didn't last long, as his voice broke.

The pain was gone, after what felt like an eternity, leaving Harry on the verge passing out as he curled in on himself, trying to escape the aching that was left in the curse's wake. He could feel Voldemort's presence kneeling over him, but he made no move to acknowledge it.

"Oh Harry, when will you learn," he goaded in a quite voice. With a dramatic sigh, Voldemort took hold of Harry's arm and hoisted him up. The boy was so weak that he was forced to lean against his captor for support. "I think it best we return to Malfoy manor together tonight. I hate to leave you in such a state. I believe Lucius has a nice dungeon cell waiting for you."


	5. Chapter 5

A breath taking cold steadily crept into the underground room. The condensation that had collected on the rough rock walls was slowly dripping onto the dust covered concrete floors, staining it with dark circles. It was completely empty save two stone pillars that served as foundation for the rooms above. That, and a young boy leaning against one of the pillars, his head drooped onto his chest and legs spread wide.

Harry had been in what he assumed was once a basement for nearly five days. He, thankfully, had been given food regularly through a cat-flap in the door. It was a welcome sight, even if it was usually an unidentifiable bowl of mush with odd lumps strewn throughout. Slowly, he had regained most of the strength he had lost after the previous four days of starvation. However, it was little consolation given the fact that he had spent roughly two weeks in captivity with hopes of escape quickly diminishing.

Over the last couple of days Harry could feel his disdain rising. After spending all year ignoring the fact that Harry even existed, Dumbledore had yet to send him any form of help. Perhaps the Headmaster hadn't formed a plan to rescue the boy, but Harry felt as if he was simply being used. Dumbledore was always quick on his feet, coming up with solutions in a matter of a second; this situation should be no different. The thought of it made Harry's stomach sink, knowing that the longer he stayed here the less likely it was that help was on the way.

Then there was the growing guilt that had swept over him again a few nights before, accompanied by the overwhelming grief that shook him to the core. If he had stayed put that night, listened to Hermione, instead of rushing off to the Ministry, none of this would have happened. He would be back at the castle with his friends, celebrating the end of their O.W.Ls, reminiscing at how awful this term had been, and perhaps best of all, preparing to return to twelve Grimmuald Place where his Godfather would be waiting. Instead he was trapped here, and Sirius was… He couldn't come to terms with it yet, like his brain was unwilling to accept the information as truth.

The sound of an old door being unlocked awoke him from his reoccurring nightmare, eyes misty from the usual tears. Harry, still groggy from sleep, scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve before returning his glasses. It was the first time anyone had entered the dungeon since Voldemort had left him there, fighting to remain concious five nights ago. Clinching his fists, heart racing with anticipation, he prepared to rush the door as soon as it was opened.

The wooden door sprang wide allowing Voldemort and a smug looking Lucius Malfoy to enter the dark room. Running at a dead sprint, Harry was inches from colliding with the smirking pair when chains sprang, snake like, around his wrists, dragging his arm painful up towards the ceiling until only the tips of his toes could brush the floor. "Now Harry," Voldemort said, a touch of laughter in his voice, as Lucius shut the door with a snap. "You didn't really think that would work did you?"

"Worth a shot," Harry snapped, his irritation rising at being mocked like a child.

Voldemort remained by the door, hands clasped behind his back as he gave Harry a piercing stare. "Today we're going to focus on the Order, Potter. Lu…."

"I don't know anything about the Order that you don't already know, " said Harry, quick to cut him off.

Setting his jaw, Voldemort dropped the smile and shook his head incredulously, obviously annoyed at being interrupted. "I don't believe that for a second, boy. You spent half of the summer in the very middle of it, so don't lie to me. Besides," the smile returned here as he motioned to Malfoy senior who was standing quietly behind him. "Lucius here will be the one to interrogate you." With this, Voldemort produced a red arm chair from thin air and sat down comfortably.

Lucius, bowing to the Dark Lord, stalked forward until he was merely an arms length from Harry. This close Harry could see the hunger in those pale, grey eyes as they searched him up and down, looking for the best place to begin. Harry could feel his heart pounding against his adams apple, as he fought back the fear that was building inside him. He knew how keen Lucius must be to have him so vulnerable, after all Harry had caused numerous problems in his once perfect life. He had thwarted his plans in his second year, set his house elf free, destroyed the prophecy he was left in charge of retrieving, and lost him his standings inside the ministry. If ever there was a person who wanted to cause Harry more pain than Voldemort, it was Lucius Malfoy.

"Well now Potter, where shall we begin?" Lucius's words were cold and drawn out, and Harry could hear the excitement behind each. Taking a glance over Malfoy's shoulder he could see Voldemort with his eyes closed, resting the bridge of his new found nose on his steepled finger tips.

"I've already said I don't know anything, or can't you hear?" Harry spat, trying his best to keep the fear from rising in his voice.

Smirking, Lucius closed the gap between them and took Harry gently by the chin. "I do hope you keep that Gryffindor spirit for a while. It will make breaking you even more exciting." He reached up with his free hand to brush Harry's long bangs from his forehead, keeping his attention trained on those livid green eyes.

Without thinking, and to get Malfoy's cold fingers away from him, Harry kicked out with his free feet, striking Lucius directly in the shins. Cursing, the man stumbled back, and produced his wand from inside his cane. Giving it a wave, Harry felt a tug on each ankle as chains shackled him to the floor spread eagle. A sharp blow came across his abdomen, causing him to puff out his remaining air. Another strike to the hip, and he was biting back a yelp. It took him a moment to realize that Lucius was hitting him with the end of his walking cane.

Taking a retreating step, Malfoy brushed his silvery blonde hair behind his ears, regaining his calm composure. "Now Potter, I need the names of every Order member you can recall," he said quietly. Pacing slowly to Harry's left, he leaned his cane carefully against one of the pillars. He seemed to be waiting patiently for Harry to answer, eyes locked tightly on the young boy hanging securely in front of him.

"I don't know of anyone that you wouldn't already know about," he answered truthfully.

Lucius took a step closer, eyes narrowing. " That may be true, but I still want to hear the names from your mouth."

"No," Harry began simpily. "There's no use in repeating them if you already know who they are."

Another advancing step. " You realize that there are endless forms of torture besides the Cruciatus curse," he hissed into the boy's ear.

"You already know! There's no reason…" Harry's voice trailed off as a glint of steel was produced from under Malfoy's cloak. A sharp point came to rest at the base of his ear and traced down his jaw line until it reached his throat. White hot fear spread over the boy as he tried ineffectively to crane his neck away.

Lucius was standing close enough now that Harry could feel his hot minty breath on his face. "Please, give me a reason to use this, Potter," the man begged, digging the point slightly under the skin, a drop of blood streaking it's way down the sharp edge.

Harry's insides squirmed at the sound of Lucius's voice. Each syllable was dripping with longing as he trailed the knife down to Harry's chest. "I'm not going to play your games, Malfoy," Harry replied a little braver than he actually felt.

Lucius, smile spread broadly across his face, gave his wand a quick flick. Immediately, Harry felt his shirt disappear and rush of cold air overtake his bare skin. Repressing a shiver, he couldn't help but take several deep breaths to steady his racing heart. He knew what to expect with the Cruciatus curse; an emence pain and then only a dull throb as the effects wore off, but a dagger was different. He had no way of knowing how deep or how far the Death Eater was willing to go with a knife or how to prepare himself for the pain. Locking eyes with Lucius, Harry defiantly clinched his teeth in a silent vow to not give him the satisfaction he was looking for. This seemed to only increase the lust in those steely eyes.

It came hot and sudden. The piercing of flesh as the blade sank through the first layers of skin like butter, sent Harry's nerves on fire. Concealing the pain was no easy feat, but Harry was determined not to give in so easily. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Lucius never took his eyes off of his, cutting blindly. "Ready to answer yet, boy? No?" By the set glare on Harry's face the answer was clear. "Excellent!"

Blood was dripping slowly down Harry's heaving chest in streaks after several grueling minutes. Lucius, however, had moved to a new patch of skin now, carefully placing the knife tip just above the waistband of his trousers. Harry's eyes widened a fraction and instinctively tried to bring his hands down "Ah I've found a sensitive spot," Malfoy remarked, playfully dragging the knife gently from side to side.

Without thinking, Harry tried frantically to pull his hips back, thrashing against the chains. Lucius slid his long fingers to the small of the boy's back to counter this movement, digging the point deeper into the tender flesh. "That's better,"the man purred, watching Harry squirm with a triumphant look on his face. Agonizingly slow, he drug the knife that was a couple inches into Harry's skin from one protruding hip bone to another. Gritting his teeth more tightly, Harry held his breath in attempt to fight off the scream filling his mind.

With a heavy sigh, Lucius returned the blood covered knife to the holster inside his cloak, admiring his work. "It seems another style of punishment may be needed," he said in mock disappointment.

Harry forced a laugh from between his clinched teeth. "I'm surprised Voldemort picked you for this," he said, his voice hiding his pain well though slightly out of breath. He was stalling, trying to give his body time to process this pain before moving on to whatever was to come. "How many times have you failed him? Let's see, you didn't revive him with that diary a few years ago." A flash of anger struck Malfoy's face replacing that confident smile, but Harry recklessly continued. "You plead innocent after his downfall to save your own skin. Hell, you couldn't even get a blue orb from a bunch of teenagers. How could he possibly think you would be able to handle…"

WHAM!

Harry's sentence was cut short by a sharp blow to the face that knocked his head sideways. The cooper taste of blood filled his mouth and the ringing in his ears drowned out Lucius's words as he shook his bruised hand. Stars blossomed before his eyes, obstructing the dark dungeon view. "……learned some manners," was the only words Harry caught as his hearing returned.

Surprisingly, Lucius seemed to be fairly calm as he scanned Harry's face, apparently deep in thought about his next torture method. The corner of Malfoy's mouth rose, forming a sinister grin. "I find… humiliation is the best way to break a cocky attitude," he whispered, taking a step closer. Harry found something off in the way Lucius was eyeing him, something that sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Placing a cold hand on Harry's shoulder, Lucius's eyes broke away from his for the first time that night and trailed down to his belt, hand following suite as it brushed its was down the boy's scared abdomen. Fear escalated quickly inside of Harry, as his brain began to comprehend just what the older man was implying. Surely he wasn't willing to go that far to prove a point.

"There are so many things I could do to you," Lucius whispered softly in Harry's ear, his mouth barely touching the skin. Harry was looking down now, watching that pale hand come to rest on his waistband, a wave of sickness washing over him. A long finger pried the excess leather from the loop and pulling it tight, released the buckle. "Mmm I'm sure I could have you begging in a matter of minutes." He gave the belt a little tug, slowly pulling it from each loop.

Harry's heart was hammering a violent beat against his rib cage now. "I've…. you wouldn't….you can't…" The teenager seemed unable to form a thought as his mind raced with images of unspeakable acts; his scar flaring to life. He was struggling now, fighting away from that hand that was working his belt out of the last notch. With the support gone, Harry's trousers slid down an inch exposing the top of his boxers that were stained with the dripping blood from the gashes above.

Lucius smirked, a yearning look in his eyes as hooked a cold finger under the elastic of Harry's underwear. Closing his eyes, Harry's breath came in fearful gasp. He could hear Lucius laughing as he moved his finger from side to side, stretching the band away from Harry's skin. "Unfortunately, I'm bound by rules, my boy," he said, letting the elastic slap back against Harry's waist. Relief, even if it was fleeting, washed over Harry. A hand reached up to pet Harry's face gently, and he forced his eyes open to stare into his assaulter's amused face. "By the look of it though, it may be the only way to get through to you."

Giving Harry's face a small slap, the Death Eater circled around behind him running his fingernail down the boy's spine. "If you won't tell me the names, Potter, I'll just have to go down the list of members we do know. Let's see," he paused here as if trying to think of a name. "There's the Weasleys, as if that's a real asset."

Harry forced himself not to rise to the bait; instead leaving them in a tense silence. He thought of each Weasley in turn, their warm, smiling faces filling his mind; his scar gave another annoying jolt. However, the quiet was quickly cut through by a sharp snap as Lucius brought the end of Harry's belt across his exposed back. Holding back a cry, Harry felt his face flush a brilliant shade of red. Another strike, and he was biting his bottom lip unable to withhold a small grunt.

"Then there's the Aurors; Shackelbolt," SNAP! SNAP! "And that metamorphagis, what's her name…Ah yes, Tonks." SNAP! SNAP! "Who else? Alastor Mad-eye." This time Harry felt the buckle end rake across his rib cage, producing a cracked gasp from his lips. Teeth gritted tight, as another lick struck his shoulder, the metal digging deep into the skin. "We just found out about that werewolf, Lupin." Harry couldn't hold back any longer. As the buckle popped against his ribs again and again, he let out a gagged cry. The metal was beating against his already raw flesh, and each blow felt like it was tearing his skin down to the bone. This went on for several minutes as Lucius went down the line of nearly every Order member Harry could think of.

"Last of course was your dear old Godfather, but" Lucius returned to view, a wide smirk playing across that pale face. Harry felt the anger stir deep within him at the mention of Sirius. "We don't have to worry about him anymore, do we? How does it feel Potter, to have no one left and know it's entirely your fault? " Rage boiled to the surface, as he watched Lucius raise the belt back and bring it crashing down across his already bleeding chest. Screwing up his face, the boy couldn't contain the scream that broke through his teeth. Whether it was from pain or rage, he had no idea.

He wanted to hurt Lucius; tear him limb from limb, make him hurt worse than anything he had done to Harry that night. With arm and legs restrained, the best Harry could muster was a wad of blood and mucus that he spit directly into the smirking face.

It was enough to send Malfoy over the edge. "You little brat," he exclaimed wiping the spit from his face with the back if his blood splattered sleave. Advancing on the boy, hand raised, he was ready to strike when a voice stopped him.

"That'll do Luicius!"

The voice made Harry jump; in the midst of everything he had forgotten they were not alone. Looking around, he could see Voldemort was once again on his feet, and pacing slowly towards the two of them, a satisfied look to him. Lucius was quick to bow out of the way, his eyes still trained, almost fearfully, on Harry.

"I'm surprised, Harry,"said Voldemort coming to stop in front of him, hands still clasped behind his back. "That was enough to make any grown wizard spill his deepest secrets. I will admit it was invigorating watching it through your eyes; feeling all those raw emotions. You really believed Lucius was about to rape you, didn't you?" A smirk played across that new face, making Harry's anger rise somehow higher. How could he not have realized that Voldemort was inside his mind this whole time?

"Not to worry though, I got some information I was looking for just by the thoughts that popped into that beautifully simple mind of yours," he continued, placing a long finger on Harry's forehead.

"How …" Harry trailed off realizing that each Order member's face had come into his mind while Lucius was hitting him, even some he hadn't mentioned. Instant guilt washed over him, however his rage consumed it. "You bastard!" He spat, eyes livid.

"Now, now Harry I wouldn't speak to me like that; not if you want your reward," Voldemort scolded playfully. With a wave of his wand, the blood flowing down Harry front and back was wiped clean and a shirt appeared over the cuts and whelps. The chains holding him in place released, causing him to crumble to the concrete floor. Unsteady, he climbed to his feet, each movement sending blinding pain over his entire body.

"There now," said Voldemort, walking closer. "Now it's your turn." Sticking his skeletal hand out, Harry realized he was offering him his wand. Dumbstruck, Harry stared suspiciously at the man's face, waiting for the joke to come.

"My turn for what exactly?"

Voldemort's smile only broadened. "I'm giving you the opportunity for revenge, my dear boy. I want you to torture Mr. Malfoy here." His voice was casual, as if asking a simple favor; yet Harry felt there must be some mistake. There had to be a catch he was missing.

"Thanks but no thanks," Harry seethed. The longing to cause Lucius as much pain as possible was still there in the back of his mind, but something held him back. A small voice reminded him of the night he tortured Bellatrix nearly to insanity and how he had felt after seeing her barely able to stand. Shaking the thought from his head he couldn't help but notice the feeling of vexation rising to the surface. Looking to Lucius, who was standing arrogantly beside them, Harry could see that his face held no sign of fear. From the look of it, he didn't believe Harry capable of torturing him.

Something about Lucius's overconfidence drove Harry to reach out and take the wand from Voldemort's outstretched hand and examine it closely. The material was completely different from his own, making it awkward in his grasp . He could feel Voldemort's cold red eyes watching him, and Harry made the only decision possible. Raising the wand, he leveled it a Voldemort's face.

Lucius raised his wand quickly, pointing it at Harry. Instead of looking alarmed, the Dark Lord seemed highly amused. Gesturing for Malfoy to lower his wand he let out a cruel laugh. "Harry, Harry. Do really think I'd give you my wand without thinking you would try to use it against me? Come now boy, I'm no idiot."

"You could have fooled me," snarled Harry , but his hand lowered an inch. "Stupif…."

Before Harry could finish the spell a wave of images overtook him, obscuring his view. His mother yelling, pleading for his life…. Cedric lying motionless, eyes wide and glassy…..Sirius falling helplessly behind the veil, never returning.

"STOP!"

His knees buckled, hitting the concrete with crippling force. Head in his hand, he fought the overpowering agony of grief and pain as his mind tried to tear itself apart. A hand brushed through his hair , causing him to jerk away sharply.

"Now, Harry you don't want to go through all those terrible memories again do you? If you want, I can give you a taste of what I am going to do to your friends if you don't cooperate." The hand that had been gently brushing his hair before, grabbed hold and pulled him back to his feet.

Breathing hard, Harry felt as though he would be sick. Eyes on the floor, he felt Voldemort press the wand he had dropped back into his cold, numb hands. He was sure that if he tried to break it he would be forced to watch images of Ron or Hermione being tortured. "I can't use the curse," he said breathlessly. "You have to enjoy watching someone in pain and if you haven't noticed I'm not like you." Harry raised his gaze to stare defiantly into Voldemort's narrowing red eyes.

"I can see your thoughts, Harry. Are you trying to say that you wouldn't enjoy seeing Lucius in as much pain as he's caused you?" Voldemort hissed, repeating Harry's exact thoughts from earlier.

An image of Lucius standing before him, gloating about Sirius's death, floated into Harry's mind, reviving that hatred he'd felt. Griping the yew wand tightly in his hand, Harry fought between the conflicting emotions of what he knew was right and what he longed so greatly to do. Glancing back to Lucius, he stared into that smug face until a decision drove him to action.

As much as it hurt, Harry brought himself up to full height; his skin on fire. Fixing a determined look on his face, he flung the wand back at Voldemort's feet where it clattered to a stop a few inches away. "I'm not like you," he repeated forcefully. He wondered briefly if he was saying it more to reassure himself than anything else, but he quickly chased the thought from his mind, locking his eyes fearlessly with his enemy.

An unreadable expression overtook Voldemort's face, as he stooped forward to collect his wand. For a few minutes he examined the piece of wood in his hands, ignoring Harry completely. "Harry," he paused shaking his head, that black hair swaying gracefully from side to side. "I have given you every opportunity to cooperate with me, and yet I have been met with resistance at every turn. My patience has worn thin."

The boy never saw the flick of the wand, but suddenly he was being drug upwards by only his left ankle. "I have been merciful up to this point, Potter, but no more! Crucio!"

Harry felt the familiar fire spread down to his bones, as he tried to curl in on himself, thrashing violently against the invisible hold on his foot. The already ravaged skin pulled taunt against his ribs, opening the cuts anew, and sending fresh blood down towards his neck. There was no use fighting the scream that tore through his lunges, causing him to yell until his throat tore apart. He felt as if every fiber in his body was splitting, ripping, tearing itself to shreds as the curse rippled through him. This had to be it; he was surely about to die.

The curse lifted, leaving him limp; his shirt pooled around his purple face. Each breath came is short gasps as his lunges refused to expand against the pain. Voldemort was face to face with him now, his jaw set in frustration. "I'm going to give you an ultimatum, Potter," he whispered sending hot breath over Harry's sweat drenched face. "You give me what I want, or I'll collect one of your friends and let you watch as I torture them to death."

Harry felt the blood pulsing to his head, his glasses falling askew. Even after all he had been through, he couldn't repress a snort of laughter. "Good…luck…" he gasped out; each word strangled by his constricting airway. "…at…Hogwarts….." Try as he might, he couldn't form the sentence as his thoughts became fuzzy.

A sharp pain exploded across his face, accompanied by a sickening crunch as his nose collided with a powerful force. Blood flooded his sinuses, leaving him fighting for air as he coughed against the wave of copper liquid invading his throat. "You forget that there are those that aren't under that old fool's protection. Remus Lupin, for instance, is easily within our reach."

Harry faltered. He'd never even thought about those outside of Hogwarts, and Remus was indeed an easy capture. From the last Harry had gathered, he was working with the werewolves, most of whom openly supported Voldemort. Suddenly his plans diminished before him, leaving him grasping for an idea; anything to regain the upper hand.

However, before he could think of an answer, Voldemort continued, waving Lucius towards the door. "I'll give you the night to think on it, Potter. However," he stopped here, his hand on the shinning door handle. "If you refuse me in the morning, I'll be sure to have your werewolf friend here by nightfall."

With a last wave of his wand, Voldemort left the room as Harry fell, head first, onto the floor below. Through the throbbing in his ears, Harry could hear the door snap shut and knew he was alone again. His body ached with every movement as he brought himself up into a sitting position, quickly clamping a hand over his mangled, gushing nose. Now that his one defense was gone, he could feel his last hope dissipate. He didn't care what they did to him, but he couldn't stand back and watch someone else be tortured because of him.


	6. Chapter 6

Time no longer held any relevance. Minutes felt like hours, hours like days. It was nearly impossible to discern what day of the week it was or even what day of the year. However, relevant or not, time was against the boy who lay beaten and bruised on the cold cellar floor. Somewhere above, the sound of a ticking clock that chimed every fifteen minutes mocked him as he battled with the options that lay heavy on his mind. The only interruption from his solitude had came nearly an hour after Voldemort had left him in a crumpled heap. A Death Eater, Dolohov if he wasn't mistaken, had dropped a plate of scraps inside the door before quickly retreating. Harry had made no attempt to reach the food despite the gnawing of his stomach. 

Against the screaming protest from his body, Harry now pulled himself into a sitting position. His t-shirt clung to the seeping gashes across his abdomen and back. The room was a fuzzy black pit around him, his glasses lay broken somewhere beyond his grasp. However, he did not care to see. 

Images of Lupin being tortured flooded his mind as he fought the urge to be sick. He couldn't let that visualizations become reality, but on the other hand he couldn't bring himself to torture another person, no matter how cruel they might be. What he wouldn't give to have the energy to stand and pace the room. Anything would be better than sitting there helplessly trapped between the impossible decisions. 

A soft click cut through the silent room as the locks on the cellar door were disengaged. A squirm of panic coiled inside him as he tried frantically to establish a plan before Voldemort entered the small room. The sound of footsteps never came though. Waiting, silent and still, Harry listened for any sign of approaching danger, but all was quiet. Raising his head slightly, the boy looked towards the door to find it standing agape. 

Confusion mixed with excitement flooded his body. It's a trap whispered the small voice inside his head, but he paid it no mind as he unsteadily rose to his feet. Retrieving his mangled glasses, he placed them lopsidedly on the bridge of his swollen nose. Still no one entered the room. Cautiously, he approached the door expecting at any moment for someone to spring out and restrain him. However, no opposition came as he reached the landing of the stairs outside the cellar. 

Harry mounted the solid steps and as quickly and as quietly as he could he ascended into the hall above. To his great relief it was also deserted. Tiptoeing the dark walnut flooring, the boy peered through the first set of heavy doors he came to. Inside he found a poorly lit sitting room, the dieing embers of a fire were smoldering in a grand fireplace. Above the mantel a gaudy mirror reflected the parts of the room he could not see from the doorway. His heart skipped a beat as a figure came into view apparently asleep in one of the high back chairs. Holding his breath, he slipped past the opening and continued his search for an exit. 

There were several doors along the corridor, most leading off into different wings of the house. After each door, Harry felt his panic rise a little more. He began to wonder just how big Malfoy manor could be, and if he would ever be able to find a door leading outside. Yet, just when his anxiety was about to peak, he found his escape. 

Opening a door slowly, he peered inside to find what appeared to be another drawing room but unlike the first, the back walls seemed to be made of glass. Hope swelled inside him as he quickly entered and shut the door behind him with a soft click. Ignoring the elegant paintings that adorned the high walls, Harry sprinted across the room, hurdling a small coffee table. He pressed his hands against the cool glass, squinting into the darkness that consumed the lawns beyond the doors. He could see rain pelting down in sheets over tall hedges in all shapes and forms. A burst of lightning illuminated what the shadows had been hiding, and to Harry's dismay he could see the wind tearing violently through the trees. This is your only chance a voice reminded him and with that small piece of encouragement, Harry slid open the heavy door. 

The cool summer air tore through his lungs as he took in several deep breaths of the first fresh air he'd had in months. Rain washed down upon his face, and he couldn't resist opening his mouth and taking in two deep gulps. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be alive. 

A deafening noise broke through the howl of the wind, startling him back to reality. Screeching filled the night air and it took Harry a minute to realize that the door must have been charmed to alert of any intruders. Above, flickering lights began to spring into windows as the residents were awaken by the sounds that reverberated around the lawns. Harry knew he only had minutes to act. 

Turning, he sprinted off of the patio and into the soft wet earth. His feet slipped through the mud as he raced around the hedges. The only thing could think to do was run. If he kept running straight he would hopefully be able to find a place to hide or a town he could take refuge in. Without his wand he stood no chance of fighting and had no way of apparating to safety. Shouts of anger resonated behind him and Harry knew they had taken chase. 

Lightning streaked across the sky and a booming roar of thunder shook the ground beneath his feet as adrenaline pumped through his legs. He knew it was the only thing pushing him forwards now. Ahead in the momentarily brightened garden, he could see a towering fence that lined the edge of the property. Atop the iron rods were sharp points which would make climbing difficult. However, he knew he could accomplish it. He'd once scampered up a tree to keep Aunt Marge's dog from chewing his leg off. This should be no different. 

A flash of red light grazed his arm, leaving a gash along his bicep. Weaving from left to right, more spells whirled by him as he neared the fence. He was almost there! Planting his feet firmly in the wet soil, he sprang cat like onto the slippery metal, his hands closing like vises around the icy bars. A moment of triumph was all he was allowed before a white hot bolt like lightning shot through his entire body. He convulsed for a minute, unable to pry his hands from the bars, before being launched backwards. 

Landing with a splash, Harry could feel his body shaking as the electricity coursed through his veins. He was sure he could feel them melting inside him as he prayed for the pain to stop. Somewhere behind him footsteps approached slowly, the Death Eaters seemed to know he was no longer a threat. A figure now loomed over him, reaching down to haul him to his feet, but a cold voice stopped them. 

"I wouldn't touch him yet, Yaxley," drawled the voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Not unless you want a taste of the electrifying curse that's been placed on the fence." 

"I'll levita…" 

"I'm fully capable of handling this, Bellatrix" Yaxley snapped, cutting across Bellatrix Lestrange's offer. Harry could feel his body being lifted out of the puddle and jerked roughly around. His eyes opened slowly and he was staring up into the downpour of rain. 

"Ooo someone doesn't want the Dark Lord finding out they were sleeping instead of keeping watch," Bellatrix mocked in a soft voice. 

" What we should be worried about,"Lucius began, apparently cutting off another retort from Yaxley " is how the boy got out of the cellar in the first place." 

They were moving now, Harry's body floating carelessly behind the three. He could feel the curse leaving his body as the pain subsided to a numbing tingle. The sense of failure and dread filled him, as they neared the door he had burst through minutes ago. He had been so close. What would they do to him now that he had been feet from escaping? 

Without warning his body dropped onto the wet cement. It hurt, his whole body did, but he couldn't afford to give up. Rolling onto his stomach, Harry clambered onto his hands and knees and made to sprint off again. A rough hand attached painfully to the back of his neck, pushing him face first into the veranda. "Still fighting I see, Potter." Yaxley's voice was a deep growl and Harry could feel himself being pulled along to the edge of the porch. Fingers wove into his long black hair and pulled his face upwards. Yaxley was kneeling beside him, his mouth inches from Harry's ear. "Let's find out what happens to those who attempt escape on my watch." 

Suddenly, his face was plunged beneath an icy flow of water. Harry placed his palms down on the slippery flooring and pushed against the restraining force to no avail. His lungs, already tired from the run , burned as they fought for precious oxygen. Above he could feel a knee digging into his back making it, if possible, more difficult to move. His head was jerked backwards again, and he gasped for air. Around him he could hear arguing, Lucius commanding Yaxley to stop, and Bellatrix demanding a turn. The water he inhaled caused him to cough violently, waisting what little time he had before his head was forced back under. 

The grip on his scalp tightened, riping his hair from side to side and then the cruciatus curse over took his body. Pain, so different and yet just as awful as the electricity, ran through him. Yaxley removed his hand as the boy thrashed over onto his back. A scream broke through his white clenched lips as Harry tossed his head back, yelling into the rain. His back arched and the remaining breath he had was gone. Blackness was overtaking him; he was suffocating.

Lucius could be heard yelling over the sound of the wind and Harry's screams. "Stop Bellatrix! We have orders…"

"This brat tortured me at the ministry. The Dark Lord will understand," she said, her voice full of hatred. 

"Will I, Bellatrix?" 

The high pitched hiss brought an end to Harry's anguish, and he rolled to his side, coughing and retching. Voldemort was speaking again but the ringing in his ears drowned out the sounds around him. He clutched his ribs as his breathing became steady again and his hearing returned. 

" and bring Dolohov to me. He is apparently incapable of locking a door and must pay for his ignorance ." Voldemort took a step closer to Harry now, stooping until his face was shielding Harry's from the rain. "Have you had your fun, Potter? Did you think it would be that easy to get away?" 

"I…almost…" Harry tried to form a sentence but his lungs didn't seem to be able to expand. 

Voldemort laughed and shook his head. "You would have never made it past the fence, dear boy. Now, I think it best if we continue this discussion in the drawing room." Returning to full height, Voldemort motioned for Lucius and Yaxley to pull Harry to his feet. 

He was dragged roughly upwards and for a minute he was afraid his feet wouldn't support his weight. To his surprise he was relatively steady given the amount of pain he had been put through over the last twenty four hours. A wand prodded him in the back, and he proceeded to follow Voldemort across the threshold. 

Ahead of him, the Dark Lord gave his wand a wave and his cloak dried immediately. He assumed the three behind him were doing the same thing because there was a momentary relief from the wand being kneaded into his back. Harry wished he could do the same. The damp clothes were heavy on his body, making it uncomfortable to move. 

Turning into the first sitting room he had looked into earlier, Harry felt a warmth rush over him as the light of the newly stoked fire came into view. Death Eaters were now sitting in several of the high back chairs around the lit room, but it was the figure kneeling bound on the hearth rug that drew his gaze. Remus Lupin's head had snapped up at the sound of the opening door and Harry had only a fleeting glimps of his fear filled eyes before he was shoved painfully to his knees before Voldemort. 

Tapping his wand against the palm of his hand, Voldemort eyed Harry for a minute before speaking. "I'm glad I went ahead and had the werewolf brought here tonight. Your escape attempt tonight can not go unpunish…"

"No!" Harry shouted, making to rise but found a hand holding him in place. He struggled anyway, throwing his shoulders from side to side. 

Voldemort turned his back on the boy and pointed his wand at Lupin. The golden eyes met Harry's and Remus gave him a short shake of the head before the curse hit him. Lupin's body began to shake as he fought the urge to scream. He had curled in on himself, his face barely an inch from the floor. A roar ripped from the man's throat and gave way to full crys seconds later. 

Harry could no longer take it. Forcing his way to his feet, he charged forward reaching an outstretched arm for Voldemort's wand. Strong arms wrapped around him, one hand grasping the fabric of his wet t-shirt the other intertwined in his hair pulling his head back. A soft voice spoke in his ear, it's excitement unnerving. "I don't think so, Potter." Lucius Malfoy breathed. "Let's see how long your friend lasts." The more Harry fought, the tighter Lucius pressed him against his own body. 

"Stop, please!" The words were out before Harry had time to comprehend their meaning. Voldemort raised his wand, breaking the curse and turned to look at Harry again. A small murmur broke out among the spectators. Lupin was crumpled on the rug now, his chest heaving in each breath. 

"Say that again" the Dark Lord whispered, a cruel smile upon his lips. When he saw Harry's hesitation he made to turn again. 

"No! I said stop…please." The last word hurt like fire burning its way up his throat. Against his ear, he could feel Lucius's lips brush him as a triumphant smile formed on his face. Harry tried to pull his head away, but the man's grip clutched tighter. 

Voldemort closed the distance between them. "I'm glad to see you are finally learning some manners, boy. However," he paused, eyes fixed on Harry intently before turning and pacing back towards Lupin. He came to a stop at the open fireplace, his long white fingers wrapped slowly around an iron poker resting in the leaping flames. " I don't think we're quite there yet." 

Panic overcame Harry, and he began to struggle again with renewed vigour. "No! You can't…" 

The Dark Lord smirked as he pulled the red hot steel from the inferno and brought it down inches away from Remus's face. Lupin instinctively pulled away, but with a wave of his wand Voldemort conjured a black collar and metal chain which he pulled taunt, dragging the man back into place. There was another burst of laughter from the watching crowd. 

Anger replaced all panic inside Harry as he tried to slam his head backwards into Lucius. "Stop, you bastard! Just stop!" Hate and rage boiled out of him as he cried out but it did him no good. Voldemort was pressing the poke to Remus's face now, smoke rising from the blistering skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the room along with the agonizing cries, and Harry felt bile flooding his throat. This was his fault. 

Closing his eyes tight, he tried to block out his senses. Voldemort's voice rang out over the yells. "Look at me, Harry or I'll continue down his body!" Harry forced his eyelids apart to see Voldemort pulling the poker out of the fire again and placing it on Lupin's back. The man howled, arching away from the pain but there was no escape. His shirt was smoldering now, leaving holes where the fabric had burned into the bleeding skin. 

"I'll do whatever you want," Harry yelled out, his voice ringing over the jeering. 

Voldemort studied him for a minute before pulling the poker away and tossing it back into the fire. Remus was coughing, trying to catch his breath, but he managed to lift his head to give Harry a warning look through teary eyes. Shame washed over Harry, and he quickly looked away. This is the right thing he told himself. 

"Whatever I want?" The question lay heavy in the air between them. Harry knew that it was a broad statement. There were so many things Voldemort could want of him; so many things he knew himself incapable of doing. However, given the circumstances he could see no way around it. He nodded against the pull of his hair. 

A victorious smile broke out over his captors face. Voldemort motioned towards something in the back of the room and Harry could hear a scuffle break out. Lucius relinquished his hold upon the boy, making him stumble forward a couple of paces. Straightening up, he saw a man in tattered clothing being drug by two Death Eaters to kneel before him. His eyebrows raised slightly. He had no idea who the man was, but it appeared to have been several weeks since he'd bathed or had a proper meal. 

"I have only one simple request, Harry. Well, for now." The words drew Harry's eyes away from the cowering man on the floor back to the red ones staring hungerly at him. Voldemort was standing, arm out stretched, offering Harry a wand. "Kill the muggle." 

Harry felt his mouth go dry as his stomach sank to the floor. As if far away, he could hear Lupin yelling at him but his words were drowned by the pounding of his heart. Voldemort made no attempt to silence him. " That…that wasn't the deal," Harry said feebly.

The wizard merely shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. "Given your prior disrespect, circumstances have changed. If you wanted a vengeful cause, you should have tortured Malfoy when you had the chance."

Harry's eyes flicked from the offered wand to Lupin struggling against a Death Eater. Their eyes met and he could see the pleading they held. "You can't do this, Harry. You're not a murder..umph" The sentence was cut short by a punch that sent Lupin's head to the side. 

A clash of thunder shook the house as the storm roared back to life. Inside a storm was clashing inside Harry's mind. Without him realizing, Voldemort had come to stand behind him. He pressed the dark wand in Harry's hand and leaned close. "Kill the muggle or I kill the half-breed." 

"I can't," Harry said barely above a whisper. "You have to want to for the spell to work." 

Voldemort sighed into Harry's ear sending a shiver down his back. "It will work out of necessity. You may not want to, but you have no other choice." 

Anxiety had reached a boiling point within him. Glancing around the room, he looked into the faces of the Death Eaters watching apprehensively. They were no longer laughing, their faces only held caution now. Was it because Harry was holding a wand? Did they think him capable of defeating everyone in the room single handedly? 

"If it helps, this man was found wandering the streets of a nearby town. Who are you morning for, Potter?" The tone was callous as if the man's life were worthless. "He has no family or friends. He won't even be missed. By all means, you're doing him a favor." 

Harry gripped the unfamiliar wand tighter and raised it level with the strangers face. The old man's mouth was agape but no sound emitted from it. However, there was no need for him to say anything. The fear and begging in his eyes said it all. Closing his own, Harry drowned out the sounds around him. Remus's shouts, the rumble of thunder, the collective noise of a dozen people waiting anxiously to see what he would do; all seemed to melt away until he was standing alone in an empty room. No, not empty. 

Kneeling before him was Bellatrix Lestrange, that sadistic grin pulling her face into a crazed look. She was taunting him, her voice echoing from every side. "I killed him," she said with a cackling laugh. "I'm so glad I was the one to kill my traitorous cousin." 

Hatered consumed him and he could feel it pushing him forwards. That voice, the same one he'd heard at the ministry, warned him again of that thin line. Her goading voice overpowered it though; driving him to raise the wand over his head and bring it crashing down with a cry. "Avada Kedavra!" 

Through his eyelids he could see the flash of green light, hear her body hit the floor. Satisfaction over took his anger and his lips twitched into a lopsided smile. Cheers erupted around him, and a hand gripped his shoulder sending a spark of pain through his scar. With fluttering lashes, he opened his eyes to the horrific scene before him. 

The vagabond lay in a heap on the hard wood floor, eyes wide staring ahead at nothing. They no longer held any fear or pleading, but the lifelessness behind them sent a wave of ice through Harry's body. The room closed in around him, his breath coming in struggled gasps. The wand he'd used slipped from his numb fingers as he turned and retched; his empty stomach heaving the small amount of bile from it's depths. A hand patted him gently on the back as Voldemort bent to retrieve the wand Harry had abandoned. 

"Good job, Harry. See how easy that was." The joy in his voice was sickening. 

"Easy,"Harry croaked, whipping the spit from his mouth. "I just killed someone!" Oh God, I just killed someone. Inside his thoughts were frantic, but on the outside he was rising to full height. "Why would…what was the point of any of this?" 

Voldemort looked down into the youths face, a smile spread across his lips. "Just a small test of your nerve." 

"A test? This isn't a game! These are people's lives you're destroying!" He was yelling now, hands shaking with rage. 

"Am I any different than Dumbledore?" 

"Dumbledore…" Harry faltered. Casting his eyes to his feet, he thought of all the times Dumbledore had withheld the truth from him. How many times had he known Harry was in danger but let things continue in order to get a certain result? Did that make him just as bad as Voldemort? "He's never killed anyone just because he could." 

"Directly, maybe not, but inadvertently how many have lost their lives for Dumbledore's gain." Voldemort's voice was conversational, holding no malice for his enemy. 

"Don't listen to him, Harry. Dum.." Lupin's sentence stopped abruptly as a muzzle appeared, strapping tightly around his face. Howl's of laughter broke out around the room but were quickly silenced by a wave of the Dark Lord's hand. 

"It doesn't matter to me how you choose to view your Headmaster, however I ask you Harry; how has he treated you this past year?" 

Harry thought of all the instances where Dumbledore had purposefully avoided him. He thought of how he'd abandoned him at the Dursley's, forbidding anyone to give him any information. How he'd left him to learn Occlumency, the one thing that could have prevented Sirius's death, from a man who despised him. The disdain he'd felt all year for the Professor rose again inside him. 

"I would even go as far as to say that your Godfather's death could have been prevented if Albus had taken the time to teach you Occlumency himself rather than putting his trust in someone who had proven time and again his dislike for you." 

A slight shift behind Voldemort caught Harry's eye and he lifted his head slightly to see a greasy haired man sitting cross legged in one of the chairs. Snape had been there to see everything, but worse of all this this meant Dumbledore knew where Harry was. Uncontrollable, all consuming fury, for Snape but more importantly for Dumbledore, spread through him like fire. Setting his jaw, he fixed his face with as much hatred he could manage in one look, staring deep into those pit like black eyes before raising them to Voldemort. "Are we done?" 

Voldemort eyed him thoughtfully for a minute, head tilted slightly, before nodding. "If you're ready to return to the cellar, you and the werewolf may go." With a lazy wave of his wand, the muzzle and chains we're removed from Lupin. A Death Eater roughly pulled him to his feet, gripping his arm tightly, ready to escort him to their holding cell. Lucius stepped forward and painfully gripped Harry's upper arm. Jerking his arm away, Harry fixed Lucius with a loathing stare before following Remus from the room "Oh and Lucius, take the body down to the cellar as well."


	7. Chapter 7

Harry allowed himself to be led back down the stairs into the dark cellar. He dreaded the moment he would be left alone with Remus, knowing he'd try and console him. The last thing Harry wanted was consoling. Ironically all he wanted was another night of solitude.

In front of him, Lupin was shoved forward onto the stone floor and Harry entered behind him. Turning he watched as Lucius levitated the dead body into the room, tossing it lifelessly into the center where it landed with a sickening thud. Cringing away, Harry walked to a pillar and slid down it to the floor, hands wrapping around the back of his head. Neither Death Eater spoke as they left, slamming the door behind them. 

Across the room Harry could hear Remus struggling to his feet. "Harry," he said breathlessly as he made his way to where the boy sat. A hand came to rest on his shoulder but Harry was quick to pull away as if it burned his skin. "Harry its alright."

"Alright?" Harry asked incredulously, raising his head to meet those gold eyes. "Professor, I just killed an innocent person." His voice was hollow, but inside disgust and anger mixed together causing his head to swim. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn to the body a few feet away. Was this the reason Voldemort had discarded the man in the cellar? Was it meant to be a constant reminder of what Harry was capable of? 

Remus sighed and sat down in front of Harry, blocking his view of the corpse. Instead Harry was forced to look at the angry blistering welp on the side of Lupin's face. A pang of guilt was added to the many emotions swirling within him. "You had no other choice. It doesn't make you any different than you were before" Lupin said, his voice full of empathy. "I know it doesn't make it any easier, Harry but you can't dwell on something you had no control over." 

Harry nodded though he did not agree. He wanted the conversation to be over. He wanted to be able to forget about the terrible act he had committed. Those pleading eyes wouldn't let him forget, however. He saw them every time he closed his eyes; begging him for mercy they wouldn't receive.

Silence over took them, but Harry could see Lupin fighting the urge to say something. He would get as far as opening his mouth before deciding against it and return to wringing his hands together. Deep down, Harry prayed the words wouldn't come to him. He was almost certain the subject would pertain to what Voldemort had said about Dumbledore and Harry didn't feel like arguing his feelings. He didn't want to admit out loud the hate for the old man that had been dwelling inside him all year. 

"Harry," Lupin began, finally finding his nerve. "Sirius…" His voice cracked causing a lump to form in Harry's throat. He hadn't expected to talk about Sirius, not now. It was apparent, Remus couldn't either. He quickly changed tactics. " What Voldemort said about Dumbledore…" There it was. 

" I don't want to talk about it right now," Harry said firmly, laying his head back against the pillar and closing his eyes. It was evidently enough for Remus. Silence fell between them again as exhaustion over powered Harry and he fell into a restless sleep. 

******************************************************

Over a week had passed without Voldemort's presence. Food, if you could call it that, was delivered twice a day, however, the prisoners could barely stomach it. The body that still lay in the middle of the room had began it's decomposition process a week ago and the smell of rotting flesh had filled the space. Harry knew now that this had been the real reason for leaving it with them. This was the least of their problems however. 

Lupin's condition, despite the infection of the many burns on his body, had declined steadily. He had grown increasingly quiet over the past few days, unwilling to admit what they both knew was coming. The full moon could only be days away judging by Lupin's demeanor, and with the growing danger, Harry's fear grew as well. He'd imagined they'd discard of him sooner or later, but not like this. Never like this. He'd welcomed the thought of death, for the sweet relief it would bring him, but how would Remus be able to cope. How would anyone be able to live with themselves after tearing someone apart limb from limb? 

Fire suddenly sprang into the lanterns around the room, signaling the approach of someone. The door opened and Voldemort, flanked by two Death Eaters, walked in. Harry made no attempt to stand, choosing instead to watch as the door swung shut behind them. He was sure that their presence could only mean trouble for him, however Voldemort pointed to Remus. "Come here, werewolf." So he still hadn't bothered remembering his name. 

Remus hesitated for a minute but then reluctantly rose to his feet, taking his time as he approached the Dark Lord. Harry followed suit, coming to a stop a few paces behind Lupin. Voldemort payed him no attention, instead he examined the worn face before him. 

BANG! The noise echoed deafeningly around the small room, causing Harry's ear to ringing painfully. At first confusion clouded his mind as he saw, but didn't understand, Lupin falling backwards and then the world stopped. Warm red specks covered his face and arms; blood, but not his own. How had he gotten to the floor and who was screaming? 

"Oh God no! No! Remus!" Tears blurred his vision, but that didn't stop him from taking in the horrific scene in front of him. Blood was gushing violently from a hole in the front of Lupin's chest. Harry's hands were clamped tightly over it, trying to control the flow to no avail. He was sobbing, bloody hands reaching up to grip either side of Lupin's face. The former professor stared wide eyed at the ceiling above, however there was no life left inside of them. He'd been given no chance for last words, no chance to plead. 

Awaking with a start, Harry felt a cold sweat covering his body. Fear still gripped his mind as the details of the dream flashed before his eyes. Spinning around, he saw Lupin curled in the fetal position across the room. A small amount of relief washed over him, but he couldn't help but remember the situation that awaited them.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but faltered. He wanted, no needed Lupin to understand he could not blame himself for whatever happened when he changed. "Remus, whatever happens please don't blame…" His sentence was cut as the door sprang open. Voldemort ambled in, apparently alone. Crinkling his nose, the Dark Lord looked to the body in front of him and raised his wand. Fire sprang to the flaking flesh, consuming it in an instant. Harry's stomach turned, and he looked away hastily. 

"There that's better," said Voldemort turning his attention to Harry. He paced forward until he was toe to toe with the boy. Lupin made to rise, but Voldemort flicked his wand without looking, causing ropes to bind him to the floor and a gag to block his speech. "I assume by now you know what is about to take place in just a few short days." 

Harry didn't answer, instead he stared up into those red eyes a look of determination on his face. He didn't dare let his enemy see the fear building inside him. A smirk spread across Voldemort's face and he reached down, gripped Harry's throat, and hoisted him to his feet. "I am so glad to see you haven't lost your fighting spirit, Harry." He held him there for a minute, eyeing the resistant look Harry held before dropping his hand. "I have a job for you." 

"Who said I was interested," Harry asked, his voice raspy from lack of use. 

"Your other option is to stay here, trapped in this small room with a werewolf. You do realize once he turns he will not distinguish between friend and his next meal?" 

Stubbornly, Harry set his jaw and glared back. He didn't want to give in, but what choice did he have? "What do you want?" 

"I need for you to return to Hogwarts and retrieve the sword of Gryffindor." His tone was conversational, as if he were asking Harry to run a simple errand. Harry couldn't deny the appeal of it though. Leaving the dank prison to return to his home; it was an easy choice. Yet, Harry hesitated. 

"You expect me to come back once I leave here?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "What's stopping me from telling Du… the Order everything I known?" Harry didn't know why telling Dumbledore seemed sickening, but a sharp pain had prodded him at thought of his name. He had quickly changed directions, hopefully without notice. Voldemort's smile broadened however, and Harry had a feeling the wizard knew exactly what he was thinking. 

"You may tell whoever you like about what has happened here, but I do have some conditions." He paused here, clasping his hands behind his back. " First, there are two things you will omit from your testimony. The first obviously being that you were released to fetch me the sword. A simple escape story will suffice. The other is about my appearance change. I've.." 

"Embarrassed by your new face, eh?" It was Harry's turn to smirk. However, the crooked smile was short lived as a hand collided solidly with his cheek. Staggering, sideways a step, Harry screwed up his face as bursts of stars filled the room. 

"I've grown fond of being difficult to spot. This new look of mine makes blending into a crowd so much easier," Voldemort continued as if there had been no interruption, leaving Harry to rub his jaw. "Second, you and your friend will return to Malfoy manor any time you are summoned." 

Straightening up, Harry gave him a confused look. "What's keeping me or Lupin from skipping the country?" 

"The half-breed will be accompanied by a werewolf who is under my control and the threat on your health should be enough to keep him in line. As for you," He placed a long finger against the lightning scar, sending a jolt of pain across Harry's head. "You know I'm capable of seeing everything you do. If you even consider running, I'll know and the repercussions will be severe." 

Harry considered him for a minute, not daring to look at Lupin who was trying to talk around the gag. Considering the choices he was given, Harry couldn't deny he would give anything to return to Hogwarts. Swallowing his pride, he gave his head a short nod. 

"I need to hear you say it, Harry." 

Sighing, Harry gave into temptation. "I'll do it." 

A triumphant smile spread across Voldemort's face, bringing back that boyish bravado he'd once held. "Excellent. Just one more thing," Harry didn't like the hungry look that now shined in those red eyes. "You've spent a few short months in captivity and while you're skinny enough, I don't think you're broken enough." 

Instincts took over and Harry took a retreating step. Fear as hot as fire washed over him as brass shackles attached tightly to his wrists, hoisting him painfully towards the ceiling. The tips of his worn trainers scratched frantically at the stone flooring, fighting for any form of traction they could find. He fought to no avail though as Voldemort closed the gap, stroking a hand through the boy's long black locks. "Did you really think you would make it out of here without me having a chance to torture you?" He tugged Harry's head back, speaking directly into his ear. The other hand had made it's way to tightly grasp Harry's throat. This was nothing like before. Voldemort was squeezing the airway closed, choking Harry with one hand. "I will have to control myself though. We don't want you dieing accidentally." 

Harry fought against the hold the Dark Lord had on his hair, his mouth agape searching for any ounce of oxygen he could get. A haze started to creep into the corner of his eyes and for a minute he thought Voldemort had forgotten his objective. He was going to die. However, just as the darkness started to overtake him, rancid air flooded his mouth. He gasped until he thought his lungs would tear, a painful seam tugging at his sides. The chains supported his weight as he slumped forward, unable to catch his breath. 

Through misty eyes he could see Voldemort advancing towards him, like a lion stalking it's prey. A whip with nine tails and what appeared to be thorns attached to each, swung loosely in his right hand. Fixing a defiant look on his face, Harry brought his eyes away from the whip and locked them with the shining red ones, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing his dismay. This only seemed to increase the Dark Lord's excitement. 

Walking around until Harry could no longer see him, a voice spoke in his ear. "Let's see how long it takes for you to beg, Harry." Goosebumps spread down his back, as Harry watched Lupin struggling helplessly against the ropes holding him in place. 

Without warning, lightning spread across Harry's spine. Thorns dug into flesh, ripping it away as the whip was pulled back for another stroke. Screwing up his face, Harry bit back a scream that threatened to betray him. Again he felt the snap of leather and the pull of tearing skin. Warm liquid rolled down his back, soaking into his shredded shirt. His hands curled into fists around the cold chains while his body swung slightly forward from the force of each blow.

Five licks. That's all it took to produce a sound from the boy. Letting his head roll back, Harry couldn't stop a growl from escaping between his clenched teeth. Voldemort let out a soft chuckle but continued his assault without a word. 

The next strike wrapped around his hip bone, thorns embedding deep into Harry's soft flesh beneath his navel. The return tug only caused them to dig in further. 

"Stop. Stop stop.." 

The words didn't sound like his own. Harry gasped them out, eyes shut tight, willing the excruciating pain to stop. He didn't know if he was talking to himself, begging his brain to block out the agony, or to the crazed man holding the whip. 

"I'm sorry, boy. What was that?" Voldemort asked, his voice thick with pleasure. 

Harry couldn't answer, his voice faltered at the thought of begging his captor. However, with another smart tug, he melted, completely lost in the pain. 

"Stop! Stop! Please! I can't…" But what he couldn't do was drowned by a blood curdling scream as the thorns dug deeper with yet another pull.

He could hear Voldemort walking around to stand before him but he could find the courage to look down at the gaping gashes along his stomach. Sick flooded his airway, and he coughed violently. His head rolled until it was resting on his heaving chest. 

"Nothing is sweater than the sounds of breaking your enemy," Voldemort said. Waving his wand, he cut the cords of the whip, leaving the thorns buried beneath Harry's skin. "Now, I think it's time to return you to Dumbledore."

Harry forced his eyes to open. Blood, so much blood, was puddled beneath him. It's dark red color reflecting the scene above. He could feel it running out of his body, covering his clothing in a sticky coating. How much more could he possiblity lose and still survive?

As if reading his mind, Voldemort answered. "You will need a blood replenishing potion soon, so let's keep our goodbyes short shall we?" 

The shackles holding Harry sprung open, and he crumpled into a heap in the bloody pool below. Cold fingers curled around his upper arm, dragging him limply to a standing position. He felt himself being spun and the air forced from his lungs. They were apparating, but all he could think about was not falling asleep. 

Bright light burned his eyes even through closed lids. Birds chirped, and soft breeze that's smelled like sweat grass brushed his flushed cheeks. The gravel crunched beneath him as he was dropped to the ground. Opening his eyes, Harry stared into the clear blue sky. The Hogwarts gate was before him. He was home. 

Rolling to his stomach, Harry winced at the pain that surged through his entire body. He pulled himself up on all fours, his sight swirled around him. Nails scraped his scalp as his head was pulled back violently.

"Remember our deal, Potter." And with a loud crack, Voldemort was gone. 

With each pound of his heart, Harry was painfully aware of the blood being pushed out of his body. Grabbing the iron fence, he wasn't sure he could make it to his feet, let alone make the mile long trek to the castle steps. He had to try, however. His only other choice was to bleed out on the white gravel. 

Slowly, painfully slow, he rose to his unsteady feet. His breath came in gasps as the beautiful fall light began to dull around him. 

Suddenly the gates sprang apart and hurried footsteps could be heard approaching. The last thing Harry wanted to see was quickly making it way towards him, robes billowing behind and greasy hair swinging. Severus Snape, surprisingly pale at the sight of Harry's blood soaked body, stopped a few feet away. 

Stumbling forward, Harry looked as if he were reaching for the Professor's help, but with all the energy he could muster, he pulled back a fist and swung it into Snape's long hooked nose. The sound of cracking bone and a shocked face were the last thing his brain processed before he collapsed forward, allowing darkness to take him away.


	8. Chapter 8

Fall sunlight drenched the Hospital Wing in a golden hue with an occasional cloud interrupting it's warming rays. Along the grounds birds were calling as they swooped in and out of the forbidden forest, playing an exciting game of chase. The sounds of hundreds of students going about their day rang murmuredly up the corridor through the open doors. It was just another beautiful day for them, but for the boy who lay heavily bandaged on a cot towards the end of the room, it was the first day he'd been fully awake since leaving his prison. 

Harry lay listening to the familiar, and yet somehow different, noises around him. He'd yet to open his eyes, afraid that when he did he'd find himself back in that dark cellar. His brain had convinced him that this was another torture method that Voldemort was using, raising his hopes of finally being free and then finding himself still imprisoned. 

Another cloud passed and sunlight washed over his body presenting him with warmth that he hadn't felt in ages. Grasping for the edge of the cot, he felt cool linen against his fingers. For a minute he allowed himself to hope; he allowed himself to believe he was finally safe. However, the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to flinch, pulling away as he waited for pain to erupt through every nerve in his bruised body. The pain never came though. 

Opening his eyes a fraction, the boy peered out into the blinding room. His glasses were gone, but he couldn't mistake the form of Madam Pomfrey standing over his bed side, a tray laden with potions in her hands. She smiled kindly at him, and sitting the tray down on his bed side table she placed a long finger to her lips, motioning to his other side. 

Taking his glasses from the table and placing them on his mended, though still slightly crooked, nose, Harry turned to see an elderly man sleeping in a wooden chair. Albus Dumbledore's head rose and fell with each sleeping breath he took, his mouth slightly agape. It was hard to tell how long he had been there, but by the look of it he had hardly left his seat.

Behind him, standing at an open window and staring vacantly across the grounds, was Remus Lupin. His face was free of any signs of damage, and for a fraction of a second Harry thought that his torture had been another image Voldemort had placed in his mind. Had he killed someone for no reason? But then he saw the awkward way the wizard was standing, as if he couldn't bare for his clothes to touch his back. 

If Harry thought the sight of the Headmaster would bring him relief, he was greatly mistaken. Resentment built in his chest, driving him to a sitting position. He couldn't handle being in the same room as the man, let alone talk to him if he were to awaken. The small movement was enough to send blinding pain across his chest and back, a yelp escaped his lips. 

"Harry." Dumbledore and Lupin were by his side in an instant, assisting Madam Pomfrey in returning him to the mattress. Over powered, Harry fell back into his pillows, gasping for air. 

"You're alright, Harry. You're safe." Dumbledore's words were meant to calm him, but instead fury consumed him.

"No thanks to you," Harry breathed, clutching his ribs. He caught Lupin's eye and a disapproving look formed on his face. 

Dumbledore looked taken aback for a minute, and sitting back in his chair, eyed Harry solemnly. He looked older than he ever had before. "Harry I owe you an apology. I.." 

" Save it," said Harry, eyes moving to his hands clenched tightly in his lap. "I don't need your apologies. " 

Madam Pomfrey, who was now pouring water into a crystal goblet, made a reproachful noise. "I don't think that is any way to talk to the Headmaster," she began hotly, but Dumbledore quickly raised a withered hand. 

"If you do not mind Poppy, could we have a few minutes alone." Dumbledore gave her a small, encouraging smile. 

She stared at him for a long minute, apparently surprised at being thrown from her own ward. Huffing, she turned on her heal and stormed back towards her office, muttering nonstop about disrespectful teenagers. 

With the sound of her door snapping shut, Dumbledore returned his attention back to Harry. "You may not want my apology, Harry, but you will receive it." His voice was calm, but there was a finality in his tone that made Harry swallow the rebuttal that was fighting to lash out. 

The mattresss gave a groan and sank slightly with Remus's weight as he perched himself on it's edge, placing a hand on Harry's shin. It's weight, meant to be reassuring, was a constant reminder of Lupin's presence and of the guilt Harry felt for involving him in this. He had to stop himself from pulling away, knowing it would look suspicious. 

"I am willing to explain my actions over this past year, but first I must ask something very difficult of you." Dumbledore's blue eyes were fixed, unwavering, on Harry. The boy secretly wished the Headmaster would avoid his eye again, unable to stomach the pity that was pouring out of the blue depths. 

"You want me to tell you what happened," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper as he talked to the the white blankets, unable to look up. He could feel both wizards staring at him now, waiting apprehensiveness. 

Closing his eyes, a wave of emotions drowned out the rebellion that was so adamantly trying to refuse. A lump formed in his throat and he couldn't help but shake his head, his long black hair waving.

There was a screech of wood on stone and a hand gripped his shoulder. Harry tried to shrug it off but the hold tightened. "Harry I know it is not easy," said Dumbledore, his voice soft and full of empathy. "But, I can not express the importance of knowing what you went through." 

"What you put me through." The correction came through gritted teeth, thick with a forced calm. 

Dumbledore dropped his hand and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry quickly cut him off. Despite his disdain, he knew that the only way he would be rid of the Headmaster would be to give him what he desired. "After we left the ministry, he took me to his father's old manor." 

Harry recounted the past months in a hollow tone, his eyes never leaving his blankets. However, when he reached the part of Lucius's torture methods, he wavered. Throat tight, he fought to find the right words to keep from stopping. He knew that if he was interrupted it would be nearly impossible to continue. Thankfully, Remus's tightening grip was the only reaction he noticed. A red rush coloured his pale cheeks, but he pressed on. 

Silence, like nothing he'd ever heard before surrounded his words. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the world around him. Even the birds had stopped their beautiful singing, waiting anxiously for every detail Harry's story held. 

The part he'd been dreading came more quickly than he'd anticipated. What would Dumbledore think of him once he learned of the man he'd murdered? Would he understand the circumstances? 

A voice came, clear and calm in his mind "Don't mention the werewolf." 

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Voldemort was listening and now he couldn't include Lupin's torture. How was he supposed to explain everything without Remus in the story? Without him it would look like Harry had killed that man with little constrain. 

"I…they…" His first stumble. Taking in deep breaths, he brought his eyes up to find Remus's. The encouragement to continue was there, but Harry knew how the story would paint him. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and willed his voice to be steady. "They brought out a man, a muggle, from the village. They made me kill him." 

Opening his eyes, he saw the sympathetic look on Lupin's face. Apparently he was already aware of the revisions Harry was being forced to make. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he studied the high pitched rafters blinking off off a wave of tears that clouded his vision. 

"How did they force you exactly?" Dumbledore's spoke for the first time throughout the whole story, his voice holding some confusion. 

"I… the crutiatus curse" Harry replied a little taken aback. He hadn't thought Dumbledore would question him. "He also threatened to torture one of my friends to death." It was the truth, cleverly hidden by lack of of details. 

"How was he to accomplish that when they were here, at Hogwarts?" 

Blinking several times, Harry felt his eyebrows furrow into a incredulous frown. Was Dumbledore blaming him? Setting his jaw, he lowered his gaze to meet Dumbledore's. "Are…" 

"Albus, surely you aren't blaming Harry for something he had no control over?" The contempt Lupin's question held was masked by curiosity, but only slightly. 

Dumbledore waved a dismissing hand and shifted in his seat, the wood creaking loudly. "No, of course not. I merely wondered if Voldemort had a way of entering Hogwarts that we were unaware of." He paused here as if pondering these words, before turning an apologetic expression to Harry. "There was nothing you could have done differently, Harry. Many older wizards would have consented to much worse under far lesser threats." 

Harry felt little reassurance from these empty, meaningless words. It was like something a habitual lier would say when caught in the act. Aggravated, he resumed looking at the ceiling, trying to find a foothold to continue. He had lost the momentum.

"The rest is pretty straight forward. I was strangled, whipped and then escaped" he said with a shrug that sent a wave of heat over his back. 

"How exactly did you escape?" asked Dumbledore. 

"Nothing special," Harry began, buying some time to build his story. "A Death Eater delivered some food and I started coughing; acting like I couldn't breathe. When he started unlocking the door I hid along the wall and slipped out when he came in." 

"And your wand?" Dumbledore motioned to the dark wood sitting on the table among the potion bottles. "How did you regain possession of it?" 

Harry hadn't noticed it before, but the sight of the holly wood brought a pang of panic. "It was on a table. I though Voldemort would have destroyed it, but thankfully he didn't. I used it to apparate once I got far enough out." His tone was steady but he could see so many holes in the story. Apparate? A fifteen year old, or was he sixteen now? Either way, he'd only seen it done a handful of times. He prayed Dumbledore would not ask him how he'd accomplished it. 

A silence fell at the end of Harry's story, the weight it carried tangible. Harry chanced a glance at Lupin who he found staring at him. The lines along his face pulled upwards in a small smile that didn't quite reach his glistening eyes. He nodded slightly and Harry felt a bit of warmth wash over his icy organs. 

Dumbledore heaved a weary sigh, and placed his wrinkled face into his hands. It was then Harry noticed the black, rotten extremity. He bit back the question that rose to his lips, wanting more than anything for Dumbledore to leave the hospital wing. 

"The Ministry also wants your testimony," he said, finally breaking the silence. He let his hand fall to his lap and gave a small smile. "Not until you are better though. Your focus should be on taking your potions regularly and healing. Madam Pomfrey would recommend no visitors, but if you wish the Weasley's and Ms. Granger are all anxious to see you." 

A snake coiled in the pit of his stomach. Part of him wanted so desperately to see them, to quiet his fears and theirs, but the other part wanted nothing more than to curl up on his mattress and be alone with his thoughts. Deep down he knew that seeing them put them at risk, even more so now that Voldemort was able to see everything he saw, feel everything he felt. A trickle of satisfaction, that had nothing to do with his own emotions, mixed in with his worry. 

"I'd like to wait," he said hesitantly, unwilling to meet either of the gazes. As soon as the words had left his lips boiling guilt spread over him. His friends had worried about him for months, grieved about his likely death, and he wasn't even willing to give them a second. 

Dumbledore studied him for a minute, lips parted on the the verge of speaking, but he merely nodded before rising to his feet. " When Madam Pomfrey deems you ready, we will travel to the Ministry together. I fear they will not be patient." 

"And if I refuse?" Harry asked with simple curiosity. He had not intention of declining, but part of him wondered what they could possibly do to him. Would they send someone to collect him? Would he be hauled in like some criminal?

The Headmaster smiled a knowing smile, and raised his wispy eyebrows. "If there is one thing I have learned over my many years, it's best to do exactly what the ministry wants you to do." A small twinkle shown behind those half moon glasses, and he touched the side of his crooked nose before moving to the door. "If there is anything you need, Harry, please feel free to ask." And with that he was gone, the double doors falling heavily back into place. 

Remus shifted on the end of the cot, and Harry watched as a grimace formed on his face. "Harry," he began, but the sound of Madam Pomfrey's door opening cut off his sentence. His eyes closed in aggravation as the nurse returned, still grumbling, and began to hand Harry his first of several potions. 

"I'm afraid you will have to leave now, Mr. Lupin," she said briskly, mixing the next set of vials into a large goblet. "These potions will make him very drowsy, and he needs the rest." 

Remus forced an understanding smile, and nodded. "Of course," he said, standing awkwardly. Turning to Harry, he paused, apparently choosing his next words carefully. "We'll get through this together, I promise." The words were simple enough, but Harry knew exactly what they meant. Lupin was the only person he could trust now, and the only person that knew that his trials were far from over.


	9. Chapter 9

The corridor was silent, cold, and surprisingly vacant. On an ordinary day every corridor in the ministry was full of wizards bustling from one office to another, creating a sort of controlled chaos that was normal for those who worked there. Hurrying footsteps and the low indistinct mumble of hundreds of people going about their day to day lives usually echoed along the walls, but there was none of that today. The only sounds now were the slight swishing of paper airplanes that regularly flew above, delivering news to different sections of the vast building. 

Harry was sitting, awkwardly, in a straight back wooden chair outside the Minister's office door. He shifted uncomfortably as his back began to ache, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. While the stretch felt nice on his stiff joints, the scars on his back flared to life as his skin pulled taunt. Wincing, he lifted his gaze to the airplanes flying above, trying to catch any sounds coming from behind the closed oak door. 

He had been allowed a little over a week of recovery before Dumbledore had returned to the Hospital Wing, aggravation evident on his creased face. The Ministry was now demanding he come in and deliver his testimony on the events that took place over a span of three months. The Headmaster had been successful at keeping them at bay for almost ten days, but they would not be denied any longer. 

Walking had been the most difficult part of their journey. Harry could feel every injury with each step he took, like a vibration that reverberated over his entire body. A few times the Headmaster had offered a steading arm, but Harry had refused curtly. He'd made it, out of breath and more than a little shaky, to Dumbledore's office where the flue network had been restored. Upon entry to the room, his eyes had been drawn to the glistening sword laying upon a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk. His hopes faded a little at the thought of stealing it. It seemed an impossible task given it's current location. 

When they had arrived at the Minister's office, Harry was surprised to see a man with long red hair, like a lion's mane, waiting for them. The confusion must have shown on his face because Dumbledore was quick to introduce them. If he were honest, Harry would admit that a slight relief accompanied the news of Fudge's dismissal. He could only hope that this Scrimgeour was a better fit. However, given that he was made to wait, alone in the corridor, he had his doubts. 

They had shaken hands, Scrimgeour's grip a little to tight for Harry's liking, and then he had asked him to wait in one of the wooden chairs while he discussed something with Dumbledore in private. Dumbledore had been hesitant. He had protested, stating that Harry would be better off if he didn't leave his sight. The Minister was adamant though. In the end, Harry had been left with the promise that their conversation would only last a minute. That had been nearly half an hour ago.

Impatience forced a sigh from the boy's lips. He fiddled absent mindedly with a lose thread on the seam of his trousers, begging for the door to open. He was not looking forward to recounting the story again, especially to a stranger, but the sooner it was over the sooner he could return to his comfy bed in the Hospital Wing. The anesthetic potion he had taken before leaving was beginning to fade and every shift caused an agonizing twinge. 

A movement beside him caught his attention as someone sat down in the chair next to his. Refraining from looking, he leaned back, careful not to brush his back against the wood, and busied himself with watching the paper airplanes again. If there was one thing he wasn't in the mood for, it was making small conversation with someone he didn't know. 

Long, pale fingers reached out to grip his thigh directly above the knee, the rough denim on his jeans rubbing against his raw skin. Panic consumed him, holding him in place tighter than any curse ever could, as a voice whispered in his ear. "Potter! What a coincidence meeting you here." The smell of peppermint invaded his nostrils and hot air brushed his cool cheeks bringing back memories of burning skin and gut wrenching screams. He didn't have to look to know who was holding him, as he was all to familiar with those long fingers touching his flesh.

Lucius Malfoy gave a small laugh as Harry's chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Harry started to turn and look at the man, but the grip tightened threateningly on his leg. "We've missed you these last few weeks, Potter," he said silkely, moving his hand up a few inches on Harry's thigh, fingers tracing along lightly . A shudder ran down his spine. "Things just aren't the same without you."

Sickness washed over Harry and he fought off the urge to retch. What was Malfoy doing at the Ministry? Wasn't he a known Death Eater? Confusion swirled through his foggy mind, and he shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts but the only thing he could focus on was the tightening of the man's hand. 

Sucking his teeth, annoyance overtook his fears. "I could scream" he said, sounding braver than he felt. "Dumbledore's just inside the door."

Lips curling into a cruel smirk, brushed Harry's temple causing him to swallow a lump that formed in his throat. "Dumbledore's your savior again then? You surprise me, Potter." His hand moved upwards to rest where Harry's hip and leg met. Stomach lurching, Harry let his head drop back to rest on the wall, hands clenched tightly on his knees. His heart hammered frantically against his ribs, fighting for escape. "I thought you would still be upset that he abandoned you to the mercy of your enemy. However, I assume he made all sorts of excuses." Lucius's voice was low and drawn out; savouring the effect they had as goose flesh erupted across the boy's skin. 

" He didn't have…"Harry's rebuttal fell flat as Lucius's fingers dug into his leg. Instinctively, the boy clasped his hand over his assaulter's. "Get your bloody hands off me, Malfoy." The words seethed through gritted teeth, no more than a whisper. 

"Come now, Harry. I thought you would like to pick up where we left off." The slender hand pushed past his, coming to rest inches from his groin. 

Bolting from his seat, Harry positioned himself along the opposite wall, his chair clattering loudly to the floor. The sound was thunderous amongst the silence that surrounded them. He regretted the sudden movement instantly. Vision swimming, he doubled over coughing violently as the pain gagged him. The world around him slowed then faded as blood pounded in his ears, deafening him to any other sounds. This would explain why he didn't hear Lucius's approach. 

A hand came to rest on his back, patting him in a considerate way. "Now now, Potter. Calm down before you hurt yourself." The next pat came down hard against the half healed scars covering his back. He gave a yelp like a dog being kicked and sagged against the wall for support. 

A sharp tug on his shoulder accompanied by a shadow shielding his body, told him that Dumbledore had heard the commotion and was now positioned between him and Malfoy senior. Harry allowed himself to slump to the floor, the cool stones dampering the fire covering his skin. Leaning back against the wall, he took several deep breaths to slow his pounding heart. The voices around him became clearer as his pulse regulated, and he could hear the furry radiating from Dumbledore's words. 

"…shouldn't be here. You are well aware of my stance on allowing him back into the Ministry at all and yet you go as far as to schedule a meeting the same day as Harry's?" 

"We have discussed this extensively, Albus. There is no evidence of Lucius involvement…" 

"No evidence?" The outrage dripped from Dumbledore's question. "Minister even Fudge wasn't this oblivious. Harry has given all the evidence you could desire." 

"Headmaster," Lucius interrupted, his voice smooth and innocent. "I have been nothing but cooperative with all of the Ministry's searches and interrogations. All of which, I might add, have produced no shred of guilt." 

Harry's head snapped up at this. Was he saying that the ministry had searched his manor and found nothing? Had they searched the cellar that he had been tortured in for months? Lucius's gaze connected with his briefly and Harry could see he was enjoying this. 

"We both know how well you are at bending the truth, Lucius. I dare say your contributions to the ministry are having the desired effect." Albus's piercing blue eyes were locked on Lucius's smug face as he raised a knowing eyebrow. 

Before Lucius could deny any wrong doing, the Minister stepped in. "Albus this is neither the time nor place to have this discussion. Now, if you and Harry would step into my office we…" 

Dumbledore held up a hand, a look of pure aggravation on his face. "Minister, let me stop you there." Reaching down, he grasped Harry's arm gently, and helped him unsteadily to his feet. "I will not allow Harry to remain in a place that is unsafe. It is apparent now that you have a price..." 

"Oh come now, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour interjected with a roll of his dark eyes. 

Dumbledore merely shook his head, white hair swaying softly. "If you still wish to hear Harry's account of what happened, though it seems you have already written it off, you may do so at Hogwarts." With this the Headmaster half lead, half dragged Harry out of the corridor. Protests followed as they walked off, but no one made to stop them. 

It wasn't until they were back in the Headmaster's office and Dumbledore was helping Harry gently into a cushioned seat that they spoke again. An exasperated sigh escaped Dumbledore's tight pressed lips as he slumped into the chair behind his desk. Using his good hand, he rubbed his temples before looking back at Harry as if he had forgotten he was there. "I must apologize again, Harry. If I had know Lucius would be..."

"You knew that the ministry had cleared him?" Harry asked in a condemning tone. His eyebrows came together as his temper rose. "You knew and you didn't feel the need to warn me?" 

Dumbledore eyed Harry over his half-moon glasses, an unreadable look on his face. "Lucius unfortunately has numerous strings he can pull inside the ministry. His half believable alibi paired with an outrageous donation was apparently enough to relieve him of all charges." Taking a quill from the ink well at the corner of his desk, Dumbledore scratched a note on a small slip of parchment. Without a single word, Fawkes fluttered down to retrieve it and quickly disappeared out the open window. 

"That wasn't my question," Harry said, slightly galled by the evasion. He pulled himself up slightly, a grimace pulling his face taunt with pain. 

"Sir," Dumbledore corrected, his voice strong but quiet. "Harry you have every right to be upset with me, but at some point you must realize we're both fighting for the same thing." He paused here, letting the words sink in. Seeing that Harry was on the verge of protest, he pressed on quickly."Perhaps if you understood why I have been so cautious with you this last year you could see where my plans went astray. I think it's best I shared with you my thoughts on this connection between yourself and Voldemort." 

A twinge of curiosity not his own, crept into the back of Harry's mind. This was what Voldemort was after. Harry shook his head, trying to block out the presence that threatened to hear every secret Dumbledore was about to divulge. However, he was only rewarded a small since of satisfaction at his lack of Occlumency skills. "I don't want to hear it right now," he answered firmly as annoyance swept over him. 

Dumbledore's blue eyes surveyed him. "If you would just allow me to…" 

"I said no!" With that Harry was on his feet, the thought of pain forgotten. He stormed across the office and tugged against the locked brass handle. He pulled, kicked, and slammed his fists violently against the door, unsure what he was hopping to accomplish. Spinning, he locked eyes with those piercing blue irises. "Let me out." 

"You will here what I have to say, Harry," was the calm reply. 

Anxiety mixed with the outside emotions swirling inside Harry's head, and he closed his eyes tightly against the confusion. He couldn't allow Voldemort to hear Dumbledore's speculations, not after all he had went through to protect the prophecy. Not after what it had cost him. 

"There's nothing you can do to stop me, Harry. You might as well have a seat and listen to the old man." The voice in the back of his mind sent ice through his veins. Clutching his hands to his ears, the boy felt hot tears prickle the inside of his eyes. "I can't. I just…" Whether his words were meant for Voldemort or Dumbledore he wasn't sure, but they poured out of him uncontrollably. His voice cracked as he slumped back against the door. Streaks of tears were gathering at the tip of his nose, sending silent drops onto the stones below.

Dumbledore was beside him in an instant, leading him blindly back to his chair. Dropping into it, Harry fell forward, face burying into his shaking hands. Had he been shaking before? Sobs caught in his chest as he fought against the raging anger trying fervently to lash out of him. He wanted nothing more than to die right there; let his mind tear itself apart until he felt no emotions at all. 

Without warning the anger was gone, leaving him drained and aching. Dumbledore's hand was resting lightly on his shoulder, but he didn't speak. Blinking away the tears, Harry looked up to see concern etched across his wrinkled face, though it seemed to be masking something else he couldn't quite grasp. He didn't dare look away. 

It was a long minute before he spoke again. "Okay, Harry. Let's get you back to the hospital wing."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm all caught up now. Working on Chapter 11 as I type this. Thanks to everyone who has dropped me some kudos, bookmarked, or commented. If you like my story please let me know! :)

The cool linen on the hospital wing cot welcomed Harry as he sank gingerly beneath the top sheet. Every inch of his body ached, and changing into his pajamas had been a chore in itself. With some, somewhat embarrassing, help from Madam Pomfrey, he'd managed to slip on a pair of checkered trousers and remove his shirt, leaving his heavily bandaged torso exposed. The chill of the sheets was, admittedly, nice against his bare flesh. 

Dumbledore had escorted Harry as far as the Hospital Wing door before excusing himself. The walk back had been filled with silence punctuated by the slap of hard shoe soles against the stone floor. Harry was grateful for the lack of conversation, however his head had become increasingly painful and tears had begun to cloud his vision. He was more than ready to surrender to what he hopped would be a blissful sleep. 

Collapsing back into the fluffy pillow, he removed his glasses and sat them on the bedside table where his nightly potion usually awaited him. Tonight, however, the table was empty. The look of confusion must have been evident on his face because Madam Pomfrey answered his concern. 

"No sleep aide tonight, I'm afraid," she said, bustling around the edge of the bed as she drew privacy curtains with a wave of her wand. "You'll be free to leave in a few days and we need to ween you off of them before then." 

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by a soft pat on his leg and a sympathetic smile. " I know it won't be easy on you, Harry; but it's necessary for you to learn to sleep on your own again. I'll be right at the end of the ward if you need me." She gave him another comforting pat before disappearing behind the curtain ring. 

Closing his eyes tightly, Harry took several deep breaths to steady his nerve. He'd spent every night since his return in a dreamless sleep thanks to a potion he'd been taking. Now, without it he feared what gruesome scenes would be waiting for him when he drifted off. However, the pounding of his head was more than enough encouragement to brave the unknown of sleep. 

When Harry opened his eyes again, he immediately knew something was wrong. He was lying on his back, staring up at an overcast sky. A full moon shone through a break in the clouds, casting an eery white light on the rest of his surroundings. Rolling to his side, the first thing he realized was the lack of pain across his previously broken body. It was as if he had miraculously healed in the course of a few seconds. Second, was how real everything else felt.   
The dying grass beneath his hands, the cool September wind on his face, even the crisp smell of autumn leaves that clung to the wind was as real as if he'd been transported from his bed. 

A voice, icy and soft, accompanied the breeze, causing Harry to scramble to his feet. "I am glad to see you can finally join me, Harry." 

Voldemort was leaning against a nearby headstone, his arms crossed over his chest and a look of pure anger adorned his face. Peering past him, Harry immediately recognized the surrounding graveyard. Just a few feet away was the grave he'd been tied to while he watched those red eyes rise from the cauldron. Beneath his very feet was the spot Cedric had taken his last breath. A wave of emotions swept him into a panic as his knees threatened to buckle. 

"H..h.. how," Harry's voice weakly tried to form a sentence around his heavy tongue. 

With an impatient sigh, Voldemort pushed himself away from his rough stone seat and took a few approaching steps, long pale fingers tracing the tops of headstones along the way. "Just like before. I can use the connections between our minds to project any image I want to you. However," he paused here, a wicked smile crossing his this lips. "We are going to see just how real these visions are for you." 

"What do you mean," Harry asked, his confusion overcoming his fear. 

The Dark Lord let out a small laugh that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. " Oh we will get to that. But first you have something to explain." The man's eyebrows raised slightly as the burning anger returned to his red eyes. "Dumbledore was about to tell you everything he knows and speculates on the bond between you and I. Despite my order for you to listen, you fought me." The aggravation was palpable in every word that passed through Voldemort's clenched teeth. 

"I didn't get any orders from you," Harry said, his own voice steady with defiance. The lie came so smoothly that he almost believed it himself, making the next part as easy as telling the truth. "I don't want to know why we have this connection. I just want it gone!" At some point he'd straightened up to full height, his shoulders squared. It was easier to stand his ground without the agonizing pain flaring across his back. 

Before he could process what was happening, Voldemort had closed the gap and was grasping the front of his shirt. The thin blue fabric twisted tight in his fist. Setting his jaw, Harry retained his composure only through pure will. [I]It's not real. It's not real! [/I]

"Do not lie to me," Voldemort spat, raising a hand back before bring it down across Harry's face. The sharp slap resonated around the still air, and sent a rush of fire across Harry's cheek. He felt himself being jerked upwards until the hot breath spoke directly into his ear. "Still think this isn't real?"

With a quick shove, Harry stumbled back a few steps, bringing his hands up to his throbbing skin. Eyes wide, he tried to understand how he could feel the pain if he was dreaming. His body was asleep in the hospital wing, but he'd felt that slap as if he were physically there. 

Voldemort was standing before him, hands straightening the black suit vest as he regained his calm composition. "Look around, Harry," he said with a sweeping hand. "I control everything in this environment. Everything from what you see," The world around them began to change before Harry's eyes. The browning grass beneath his trainers wove together to form a cement floor. The graveyard scenery spun violently around them until it was only a blur before changing altogether into rough cellar walls. Harry recognized it as Malfoy manner immediately. How could he forget the place he'd spent all summer praying for death. "And even what you feel." An explosion of pain erupted across Harry's back as his previous injuries flared to life. Taking a sharp intake of breath, he felt his legs begin to shake as he fought to remain standing. However, just as quick as it had appeared, the pain dissipated. 

"Now that you have an understanding of the situation, let me tell you what you are going to do," Voldemort continued. "Tomorrow you will go back to the Headmaster's office and tell him you are ready to listen." 

Despite his pounding heart, Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore isn't going to tell me anything now. I've already told him I don't want to hear it." Harry was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. Part of him was done playing these games. He knew that whatever Voldemort did to him here had no effect on his actual body. "Besides I only agreed to get you that sword. You didn't say anything about spying. Do what you want to me in this imaginary world of yours but I won't do it." To his astonishment, Voldemort smiled. 

Pacing behind him, Voldemort placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. His grip was firm but not painful as he kneaded the boy's muscles. "Have I told you how much I enjoy your stubbornness, Harry? At first it was frustrating to have someone defy me. Especially someone your age. However," the cool voice paused here, the grip tightening drastically. Harry could feel the fingernails digging deep into his collarbone and he fought to pull away. "Now I find it exhilarating when I break you." The taller man was leaning over him, his lips brushing Harry's ear. Cringing away, Harry could feel the chuckle rumble through Voldemort's chest before he whispered in his ear again. "I've got another little surprise for you. Open your eyes." 

The pressure on his shoulders was released and the sound of footsteps told Harry that Voldemort had moved back in front of him. Taking a steadying breath, he reminded himself once more that this wasn't reality before opening his eyes. Standing before him was a red headed girl. She wore a warm smile on her soft face, but her blue eyes were vacant as if she were made of wax. 

Mouth slightly agape, Harry stared in disbelief at the image before him. Voldemort had moved to stand behind Ginny, his hand clasped on either side of her arms. 

"My my. Young Ginny sure has matured from that little eleven year old that poured her heart out to me," he said silkily, his hands trailing up to her thin shoulders. 

A wave of sickness rolled in Harry's stomach as he clenched his teeth to keep the bile from escaping. "She's not real," he said firmly through his teeth. 

Voldemort laughed softly. "Yes of course, but she's real here. Would it help if she had the right expressions?" At the words Ginny's face became tight with fear, her delicate hands clenching at her sides as she tilted her head away from Voldemort's touch. Her breathing had quickened and her chest rose and fell rapidly; her eyes searching Harry's for help. 

"Alright you've made your point," Harry snarled. Whether fake or not, Harry couldn't stand watching Voldemort's hands on Ginny's body. Anger swirled with his fear as he watched her pleading eyes. 

Voldemort ran one of his slender hands through her red hair, pulling it gently away and exposing her neck. Without braking eye contact with Harry, he leaned forward and placed his face close to the hollow of her throat. A soft whimper broke through Ginny's lips and Harry took an advancing step, unsure of his plans but ready to act.

A sharp look from those red eyes stopped him short. Voldemort took a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. "Flowers," he said in soft whisper. "She smells so delightful." His hand slid slowly from her shoulder, coming to rest at the bottom of her throat.

A tingling sensation spread over Harry's body and he quickly turned his head to the side; eyes clenched tight. [I]She's not here.[/I] But even through his constant reminders, Harry could hear Ginny's soft sobs telling him otherwise. 

"I'll go to Dumbledore tommorow," he managed, not daring to open his eyes.

"Look at me, Harry." 

The boy pried his misty eyes open with some effort. Voldemort's hand was resting at the top of Ginny's heaving chest and a cruel smile pricked at the corner of his enemy's mouth. Harry's bottom lip was trembling in an effort to retain his pleas. 

With a deep sigh, Voldemort let's his lips travel up Ginny's neck before stepping away from her. He approached Harry slowly, a hungry look in his eyes. Stopping with only a few inches between them, he brought a thumb up to touch Harry's quivering lip. "That's better," he said softly. 

Quickly, Harry pulled back to escape that cool touch, but Voldemort grabbed his chin instead. "Next time maybe you will remember who is in charge here. Or maybe next time I'll get to know Ms. Weasley a little more intimately." 

Harry swallowed the sick that had risen in his throat at the words. 

"Now, you are going to return to Dumbledore's office tomorrow, correct?" 

"Yes," Harry said shortly, trying to pull his head away, but Voldemort tightened his grip and jerked him back to face him. 

"Yes what," he asked coolly, a smirk growing on his face. 

Harry's nostrils flared, but behind Voldemort he could see Ginny still standing there, a blank expression on her face. Swallowing hard, Harry locked eyes with Voldemort again. 

"Yes, sir," he said. Each word dripped with as much venom and sarcasm as he could muster. 

Voldemort laughed an shrugged his shoulders. "I'll take what I can get for now."


	11. Chapter 11

Harry awoke in the Hospital Wing in a state of panic. The sheet was clinging to his sweat drenched arms, and he pulled frantically at it before realizing what it was. Taking in several rattling breaths, he fought back the urge to scream and instead tried to calm his racing heart. After a minute of searching the dim fuzzy room, he laid back and stared at the ceiling.

Upon the wide wooden beams a faint light was beginning to grow, illuminating the drifting dust particles like glitter falling from the rafters. Apparently, the sun was already breaking away the night's darkness. Swallowing against his dry throat, he closed his eyes briefly before snapping them open again. He was afraid of what might be lurking behind his eyelids, sure that if they stayed shut for long he'd be transported back to some terrifying place. 

The rattling of iron rings against metal drew his eyes down to the opening curtains. Madam Pomfrey appeared around the corner, a tray laden with various breakfast foods in her arms. Seeing that he was awake, she gave him a small smile. "Morning, Harry. I wasn't sure what you wanted for breakfast, so I brought you a little of everything." She helped him sit up in bed, placing a pillow behind his back, and laid the tray across his lap. 

Harry reluctantly took a bite of buttered toast while the matron busied herself with cleaning the bed side table. The crispy bread was hard to swallow, but he forced it down before taking a long drink of cool, refreshing juice. "Could I go see Professor Dumbledore after breakfast," Harry asked, finally working up the nerve to speak. 

Madam Pomfrey straightened up, her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to study him. "I don't think.." she began but Harry quickly pleaded his case. 

"I'll come straight back after we're finished. I just…I just had something I wanted to ask him," he said in a begging tone. 

Heaving a sigh, Madam Pomfrey gave a slight nod. "As long as you eat first. I guess I should be thankful you're finally ready to get out of bed." Turning, she continued on to the next table, wiping every surface as she went.

Harry began to shove food at random into his mouth, trying to quickly eat as much as his soured stomach would allow without choking. Each mouthful was like sand that swelled exponentially with his saliva, making it difficult to swallow. He'd barely finished four bites before succumbing to his gnawing stomach and setting the tray aside. 

He dressed as quickly as his battered body would allow him, thankful to skip the assistance of Madam Pomfrey this time. It was a fight, but after a few grunts of pain he managed to pull his last item of clothing on. With a quick reassurance that he would go straight there and make no detours, Harry left the Hospital Wing on his own.

Immediately after turning the first corner into the main corridor, Harry realized his mistake. A sea of black robes rolled past as hundreds of students fought their way to their first class of the morning. Upon seeing Harry, eyes widened and heads began to turn as a roar of whispers broke across the crowd. A rush of heat washed over his face and quickly with head bent, he began to make his way through the crowd.

"Is that him?" 

"Where? I can't see!" 

"Look over there!" 

Ducking his head, he tried to turn the corner when a familiar voice rang out above the noise. 

"HARRY!"

Turning, Harry saw a flash of red hair sprinting towards him; pushing anyone that stood between them out of the way. Ginny Weasley was inches from throwing herself to embrace him when she pulled up short. The sudden stop caused her to take an awkward step, her hand reaching out to brace against his chest to steady herself. The smell of fresh flowers followed in her wake, causing Harry's stomach to clench tightly against the recent memories of his dream. 

"Mum will be right mad that no one has told her you were up," she said, a mischievous smile spreading across her rosey lips. She let her hand slip off his chest and grasp his. "She's been up here every week demanding to see you, but Dumbledore has been more than stubborn." 

"It's been a rough recovery," he explained trying to ignore the excitement that tingled over him at having his hand enclosed in hers. He was a little taken aback that Dumbledore had taken the blame for not letting visitors in to see him. "I'm just starting to fell well enough to walk." 

"You better get a move on then. Quidditch is coming up quick," Ginny teased with a slight laugh. "Gryffindor needs a captain that's able to play." 

Captain? Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise but couldn't hold back the laughter that was building in his chest. It was so unfamiliar on his lips that he had trouble controlling it. "I don't think you'll want me as captain," he said reaching up with his free hand to rub the back of his head in embarrassment. The small movement was enough to cause a ripple of pain down his spine. Thankfully his wince went unnoticed.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders but before she could answer Dean Thomas appeared beside her, a indiscernible look on his face. "Oh sorry, Dean. I saw Harry and had to check on him." Her soft hand slipped from his to intertwine with Dean's. Harry would be lying if he said he didn't feel a strong but if jealously roar through him. 

Dean gave a noticeably forced smile to Harry, but quickly returned his attention to Ginny. "We better go or we'll be late for Transfiguration." 

Ginny rolled her eyes, but gave Harry an apologetic frown. "You coming back to the Common Room tonight?" 

"No. I'm just heading to Professor Dumbledore's office," he said. "Madam Pomfrey said to come straight back. You know how she is." 

Ginny's frown deepened. "Well promise me you'll come find me as soon as Satan releases you?" 

Harry gave a small laugh. "I promise." 

Ginny returned the smile, but Dean was now pulling her away down the corridor. She gave him a wave before turning her attention to Dean, snatching her hand away with a scathing look. 

Spirits lifted significantly, Harry watched her until she was out of sight before continuing on to the Headmaster's office. Despite all the stares and murmurs, he arrived at the stone gargoyle feeling the best he had in several months. 

"Cockroach Clusters," he said, easily remembering the password from yesterday. 

At the top of the stairs, Harry reached out to knock on the oak door but his hand froze, knuckles pressed against the dark grainy wood. His chest had tightened considerably; all the happy thoughts chased from his mind. He knew what had to be done, but how could he justify betraying Dumbledore? 

Before he could muster the strength to knock, the door swung wide, revealing the last thing Harry wanted to see. Severus Snape was standing before him, his expression going from scowling to surprise before finally coming to rest on a deep look of loathing. He opened his thin pressed mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, black beedy eyes narrowing slightly as he gritted his crooked teeth into a sneer. 

Harry's heart leapt into his throat as his hatred boiled to the surface. It took him a minute to realize his hand was still raised, fist poised to rap against the now open door. Dropping it quickly, Harry returned a scathing look and straightened to full height. He stood blocking the door, unable to bring himself to step aside. 

Snape's sneer widened. "Out of the way, Potter," he said barely above a whisper, his voice mirroring every bit of the mallace his face held. 

Teeth raking against each other, it took every ounce of control he had to keep his fist from shaking. Harry snarled his nose, but before he could reply Dumbledore appeared at Snape's elbow, a look of surprise apparent on his face. 

"Harry, come in," he said, motioning inside. 

Harry forced a smile and pushed roughly past a sour looking Snape. Behind him he heard the door shut sharply as he took a seat in the chair across from the Headmaster's desk. It was unforgivingly stiff against his sore body, but he settled in waiting for Dumbledore to address him. Above, the portraits were eyeing him with intense curiosity, some whispering to others as they gave pointed looks in his directions. This did nothing to settle the unease that was rising quickly inside his churning stomach. 

Professor Dumbledore took his usual seat behind the mahogany desk, crossing his arms lightly atop it. He gave a Harry a warm smile before speaking. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

Harry returned a half hearted smile, but couldn't quite bring himself to meet the professor's gaze. "I…" The words caught in his throat which had become unnaturally dry. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. " I was hoping you'd still be willing to tell me what you were going to yesterday." 

Immediately, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his long fingers coming up to a steeple above the papers littering his desk. His sharp blue eyes surveyed Harry's for a minute, searching for something before answering in soft voice. "May I ask why you have had a sudden change of mind?" 

Harry instinctively shrugged his shoulders. "I think with everything going on yesterday…" He trailed off, eyes falling to his clenched fist resting in his lap. The excuse sounded feeble, even to him, but what other reason would he have for returning.

The sound of clinking glass caught his attention and he looked up to see that Dumbledore had left his desk. He was now retrieving two small goblets from a tall ornate armoire and uncorking a large decanter of amber liquid. Turning his back to Harry, he proceeded to fill the glasses before returning to his seat. "How about a drink first?" He asked, pushing the glass across the table. 

Harry eyed the glass for a minute, watching as the small bubbles swirled around, making their way slowly to the surface. Reaching out, he took the drink and raised it to his lips. At least this was buying him some time to regain his composure. 

The liquid was cool against his tongue, but the taste evaded him. A mingle of sour and sweet collided against his taste buds as he swallowed against the lump in his throat. A sudden warm sensation flooded his head causing his thoughts to swirl together in blinding colors. He blinked several times against the confusion clouding his mind, but it only seemed to worsen. Closing his eyes, he steadied himself mentally by taking several long breaths. 

"You're okay, Harry" came a voice directly in front of him. A hand was resting against his arm, gripping it reassuringly. "Its a potion. I needed to be able to talk to you without Voldemort listening." 

Harry's head snapped up. Dumbledore was leaning back against the front of his desk, his eyes focused intently on Harry. "I don't…" 

"It's okay. He can't hear this right now." The professor's voice was calm but urgent. "I'm not sure how long we have until the potion wears off but he can't see this. The drink targets a part of your brain and blocks it, making it seem as if time has stopped completely." 

Bewildered, Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses with a shaky hand. "I'm having a hard time understanding," he murmured. 

"I understand. It's a side effect from blocking part of your mind. Now," Dumbledore gripped both of his shoulders, forcing Harry to look at him. "My speculation is that he's sent you back for a reason. What is it that he's wanting?" 

Harry's eye lids fluttered, and he tried to force the fuzzy feeling away. "I..er… he…he wanted to know what you knew about our connection." 

Dumbledore shook his head. "Why did he let you come back to Hogwarts, Harry," he clarified.

Automatically, Harry's green eyes were drawn to the glistening sword sitting upon the high shelf. "He wants Gryffindor's sword." 

Dumbledore released Harry's shoulders and narrowed his eyes, apparently lost in thought. After a minute he nodded slowly. "Harry I need to ask something of you, and I'm afraid it won't be easy." His voice was soft but underneath it's calm demeanor Harry could hear the regret fighting to break out. "I can't give you the information you've come for, but I can get you the sword. Not tonight, but soon." 

Harry felt his heart sink. What would Voldemort do if he didn't get Dumbledore to talk? His head dropped and he shook it curtly. "He'll torture me if I don't get him what he wants," he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't bring himself to meet those piercing blue eyes as his own green ones filled with tears. 

A hand returned to his arm, its thumb stroking him in what was intended to be a comforting gesture. "I understand, Harry. I just need time to find a way to break this connection," Dumbledore said with a strain in his voice that Harry had never heard before.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Harry nodded. He could feel his mind beginning to clear slightly. It was like static beginning to fade from an old t.v. set. "Will he be able to see this in my memories?" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, you can think back to this as often as you like and he'll never be able to see it. But I need you to act like this conversation never happened when the potion wears off. I'm going to tell you that I can't give you that information and you're going to argue with me." The professor eyed him over his half-moon glasses before standing and returning to his seat behind his desk. 

"Professor I.." his words faltered. He didn't want to leave there without answers. He couldn't leave there without something. The thought of being alone with Voldemort after failing made his stomach wrench violently. "I don't know if I can do this." 

Dumbledore lowered his gaze to his clasped hands. "You've been through more than anyone should ever have to go through, Harry. And you've been so brave. I promise you that I will find a way to get you out of this. I just need time." 

Harry opened his quivering lips to reply but a trickling sensation in the back of his mind stopped him short. "I… I think the potion is wearing off." 

The old wizard nodded and gave him a reassuring smile that didn't quite meet this weary eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry but I think you were quite right yesterday. We can revisit my thoughts on you and Voldemort when you have recovered more." 

The sudden change made Harry stumble for a minute. [I] Don't let him push you away[/I] came a cool voice from inside his head. 

"I'm fine,"he retorted. "I want to know why he is able to see inside mind so easily." 

Dumbledore heaved a sigh and took a drink from his crystal goblet before answering. "I promise I'll tell you when you're ready." 

A flicker of genuine anger jolted through Harry . "When I'm ready," he asked incredulously. "This is my life you're playing with. I think I have a right to know." 

"I understand your concern, Harry but I don't think now is the right time." 

"When will it be the right time," Harry snapped, all thought of playing along gone. "When I've been tortured again? How about after I lose someone else?" 

Dumbledore looked taken aback by the sudden change in Harry's tone. "Harry, you've been through a lot in the last few months. I think you need to take time to process everything before I add more to it. Sirius would…" 

Harry was suddenly on his feet, his vacated chair clattering to the floor. "Don't you dare tell me what Sirius would have wanted," he snarled. His breath came in painful gasps as he injuries faded to the back of his mind. Dumbledore was the reason Sirius was dead. He had no right to speak for him. "If you would have warned me about this, Sirius would still be here." 

"I am willing to bear the weight of my contribution to Sirius's death but I will not take it all," he said calmly. 

Harry gaped at him, shocked by the accusations his statement held. "Forget it," he spat, spinning on his heel and grabbing the door handle. 

[I] You're forgetting something, Harry, [/I] Voldemort's voice growled as warning in his ear. 

[I] He's not going to tell me anything,[/I] he thought pointedly but before he could turn around Dumbledore was speaking again. 

"We're both fighting for the same thing, Harry. I'm not the bad guy here." 

Tears streaked down Harry's face as he closed his eyes. He shook his head slowly, unwilling to turn and face the Headmaster. "You're not the good guy either," he said flatly before turning the knob and leaving.


	12. (actually chapter 13)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay a few things need to be said about this chapter. First, you will notice I skipped 12. I have it 1/4 of the way written but my Muse hit me in the middle of the night for this one. I'll get 12 out soon. 
> 
> Second, I may have went to far or not far enough with this one. I've stayed on the soft side of non-con during previous chapters but this one, while not graphic, was a little more heavy. So underage/cousin/non-con warnings here! I may or may not add a graphic version of this chapter as a stand alone one-shot later. If you'd like that give me a shout-out in the comments. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The ice cold wind swept through the surrounding trees, sending leaves of every color down like pelting rain. The ones that had already fallen were swept up in large whirlwinds that twirled widely down the gravel road. Above, a bright sky laden with white fluffy clouds completed the perfect autumn day, making it marvelous weather for a trip to Hogsmeade. Unfortunately for Harry, it wasn't any normal Hogsmeade weekend. 

He, Hermione, and Ron had walked the long path from the castle to the small village with laughter and plans of visiting Honeydukes first thing. Harry played along, chuckling and talking about all the candy he planned on buying even though he knew he would never make it to the sweet shop. It took every fiber in his body to keep him from screaming and running back to the castle; hiding under his covers like a scared child. But he was a scared child. 

Turning the corner that led to the main street, Harry tried to calm the anxiety building within his chest. The road was packed full of laughing students who were scrambling from one window to another, pointing and gawking at the contents. Others were filtering into the Three Broomsticks for a warm drink of butterbeer. Harry would have given anything to be a normal student, excited for a day of shopping and drinking; instead he was dreading the moment they would reach Honeydukes's door. 

Weaving through the crowd, they arrived at the shop's landing in what seemed like record time. Taking one last deep breath, Harry set his mind on the task at hand. 

"Bollocks," he exclaimed, bringing a hand up to his forehead. The pair turned to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "I've forgotten I had a meeting with Professor Dumbledore this morning." 

"Oh come on Harry," Ron said, his shoulders slumping more than usual. "It's our first visit. Just tell him you forgot." 

"I'll just run up and see what he wanted. Surely it won't take long," Harry assured them. "I'll meet you guys in the Three Broomsticks for lunch." 

Ron and Hermione gave each other a fleeting glance. "You want us to come with you," Hermione asked, and Harry was aggravated to hear a touch of worry in her voice. Had they been given orders not to leave his side? Was he so fragile that he couldn't go to Hogsmeade without someone watching over him? 

"I'm fine. Really," he added as Hermione looked on the verge of arguing. "It'll only take a minute." And with that he turned briskly on his heal, returning back up the street. 

He reached the fork in the road, one street heading back to the castle, the other winding its way up to the Hog's Head pub. Looking longingly at the castle, he stood frozen, hands buried deep into his jacket pockets, as a conflicting battle raged in his mind. He could return to the warmth of the castle, argue that he hadn't been able to shake Ron and Hermione; or he could do as he was told and find whoever was waiting for him at The Hog's Head. 

_Now, now Harry. Let's not start out this way,_ came a sharp voice inside his head. He knew it was no use arguing and turned up the gravel walk to the pub. 

A sudden thought occurred to him; wouldn't it be suspicious if he was seen leaving the pub with an adult? But before he'd had time to ponder the question, a strong hand gripped his bicep, steering him towards the alley that ran behind the building. Another hand snaked into his pocket, collecting his wand from inside it's depths.

"Glad you could make it, Potter," said the gruff voice that Harry recognized as Yaxley. He had had only one encounter with the man, though he was sure he would never forget it. After trying to escape during the summer, he had held Harry's head underwater in a drainage ditch. Now, his fingers were digging unpleasantly into his arm. 

Harry jerked his arm to the side to free it from the man's tight fingers, but Yaxley twisted it backwards painfully and slammed him face first against the rough brick wall. Letting out a grunt, Harry felt the Death Eater's weight pushing against his pinned limb, bearing down until he thought it would snap. 

"Ger off," Harry ground out through beared teeth. He was rewarded with another push that caused him to cry out.

"Start cooperating then," Yaxley said softly. He pulled Harry away from the wall with a sharp jerk. " Now come on, we're late." Glancing up the alley, Yaxley tightened his grip and turned on the spot. 

A familiar squeezing sensation spread over Harry's body, and he fought to breathe through constricted lungs. It only lasted a second. Before he knew it, he was stumbling forward on bright white gravel, his knees digging in as he fell. Yaxley let out a chuckle before wrenching him to his feet and half dragging him up the walk. 

The weather had changed dramatically. Instead of leaves, rain was falling from the soft grey sky in a light mist that clung to the hedges that were growing around the lawn. Harry recognized them immediately as the ones he'd sprinted through on the night of his attempted escape. In the light he could see a beautiful fountain sparkling nearby, it's water arching high in the air from the top spout. 

They reached the front marble steps, and the enormous door sprang wide allowing them entrance to the main hall. Ahead of them was a immense staircase, it's grand steps leading to an open balcony that over looked the vast hall. Harry wondered how many rooms the manor had, but before he could consider it further they were moving again. Instead of mounting the steps, Yaxley turned him to the left, leading him towards an open door. 

Inside was a prodigious fireplace surrounded by expensive looking couches and rigid high back chairs. Along two walls were shelves of books that reached the tall ceilings. A warm fire flickered in the grate, casting a comforting light around the room. 

Voldemort was looking out of one of the ceiling high windows that lined another wall, his arm crossed over his chest. He seemed so normal standing there, his jet black hair helping to complete the illusion. As he turned to look at them however, his bright red eye cast a chill down Harry's spine. 

"You're late Yaxley," he said coolly. Harry could hear the anger of being kept waiting radiating from his voice. 

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Yaxley said with a bow. "The boy took his time getting to the pub." 

Harry couldn't repress the eye roll that drew his gaze to the rafters above. He thought about arguing but knew that his words would fall on deaf ears. Instead he remained quiet, his eyes returning to Voldemort only when he addressed him. 

"Potter, it is customary to kneel when in my presence," he said in an informative tone, but there was no mistaking the order. 

"That's nice," Harry's replied nonchalantly. "Perhaps you should tell Yaxley. It seems he has forgotten." 

A hand gripped the scruff of his neck forcing him to crane backwards, and a sharp blow to the back of his shins sent him forwards, knees colliding painfully with the unforgiving wooden floor. He was forced to stare up into those gleaming eyes, as Voldemort paced forwards, stopping a few feet away from where Harry now kneeled. Embarrassment flushed to Harry's cheeks, as he glowered back.

"I see your time away has revived your defiance " Voldemort said, though he didn't smile as he normally would. Instead, he stared down at the boy with aggravation lining his pale face. 

Fear turned in Harry's stomach. Voldemort had always enjoyed their meetings, using it as time to disparage him, however he now seemed genuinely angry. 

The Dark Lord clasped his hands behind his back, and Harry recognized the look on his face immediately. It was one he received every time Snape looked in his direction. Pure loathing.

"Potter, my patience has wore thin. How long have you been back at the castle? How many times have you set eyes on that sword?" 

Harry bit back a sarcastic response, choosing instead to hold his tongue. Apparently no answer was just as bad as a cheeky one.

"Answer me, Potter," he snarled. Brandishing his wand, he whispered "crucio!" 

Fire spread through Harry, melting his bones as he fought back a scream. It only lasted a second but he was already panting heavily. 

"I can't...get…it," he hissed through labored gasps. "Dum…ble..dore…" 

"Don't give me excuses, boy," Voldemort spat. "I thought since you seem to have forgotten your objective, another lesson in obedience was needed. I have a Death Eater that has been begging to have little time with you." 

Harry felt his stomach plummet into an icy stream. He imagined his last encounter with Lucius Malfoy; his long finger sliding up his trembling leg. Voldemort smiled his first cruel smile of the day and small chuckle rumbled through his chest. 

"Not Malfoy, though it seems like I've spotted your greatest fear. No, there is another that has been keen to have you at their mercy. They should be here any moment. They had to collect your werewolf friend this morning." 

Sickness pooled in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't realized that Lupin would also be joing them. Voldemort turned and strolled back to the window, returning his gaze back across the lawns. 

"I'll get the sword," Harry choked out without thinking. He would have agreed to anything to keep things from escalating further. 

Voldemort didn't turn to look at him but answered, his eyes still fixed out the window. "After today, I'm sure you will." It was short, simple, but bone chillingly terrifying. 

Harry opened his mothy to beg, to plead for mercy, not for himself, but for Remus. However, the sound of the drawing room door opening cut him short. 

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Remus being shoved into a chair just to his right, a look of defiance clear on his face. He caught his eye, and the older wizard gave him a short shake of his head. He had a nasty gash across his left eyebrow that was slowly leaking blood into his eye. He reached up to wipe it with his sleeve but ropes appeared binding his wrists to the arm rests. He rolled his eyes up to his captor with a scathing look. 

"Ah, Bellatrix. I am…" 

Harry didn't hear the rest. His heart was now hammering violently against his ribcage, fighting to free itself from the body that was about to endure an obscene amount of pain. Bellatrix was ruthless enough but after their meeting in the Ministry, Harry knew she had a reason to go beyond that with him. He shook his head, a scared smile creeping to his lips.

"Something funny, Potter," she cooed, apparently having already been told her reward. She stalked forward, squatting to look directly in his eyes. 

From his peripheral vision, he could see Yaxley standing next to Lupin's chair, his hand resting upon it's tall back. Behind her, Voldemort stood watching, his face stoic. Harry shrugged his shoulders, his eyes coming back to hers. "I guess not," he said, sounding relatively calm given his current predicament. 

She smiled at him, bringing her thin hand up to sweep the wet black locks from his forehead. Harry, forgetting his place, swiped her hand away. She caught his wrist, twisting it around until a look of pain crossed his face. "Oh little Potter. How I've dreamed of this moment," she whispered twisting his wrist further. 

Letting out a grunt, Harry reached up with his free hand determined to pry her cold fingers from his skin. Suddenly, she dropped his wrist and gave her wand a flick. A wooden chair appeared behind him , and with the help of Yaxley, he was hoisted into it, hands tied tightly to the thin spindals behind his back. 

Slowly, she stood up, tracing her hand up Harry's body until she reached his neck. She was a head taller than him, and Harry found himself staring up into her cold black eyes. She squeezed his neck, a look of mania crossing her face. 

"Bellatrix, I hate to tell you that the boy must return to Hogwarts tonight. Cuts and broken bones can be minded but bruises are more difficult to explain," Voldemort told her casually as if he were giving her simple instructions on how to conduct a spell. 

"I understand, my Lord," he said releasing his neck. Instead, she stalked behind him, a finger running along his shoulder. Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to remember she couldn't kill him. That did little to comfort him when he was unsure of what her plan of torture would be. 

She came to stop behind him, her body close to his. He felt her lips press softly to the base of his neck, her warm breath sending goose flesh across his skin. "I use to do this to your dear Godfather," she whispered into his flesh. Her lips moved slowly up his neck until she reached his ear. "I'd visit his house with my parents and I'd talk him into letting me tie him to a chair in the attic. He was just a kid after all, and he was always so easy to manipulate." Her tongue darted out, licking the shell of his ear. 

Harry tightened his eyes, cringing away from her touch. His breathing had quickened in an attempt to remain calm, but his heart wouldn't listen to his desperate pleas. She pushed her hands over his shoulders and down to his chest. All the while breathing heavily in his ear

"Sirius would pretend to hate it but…" 

"STOP IT!" 

Harry's eyes snapped open. At first he thought he'd spoken without realizing, but turning his head he saw Remus pulling deranged like at his bindings. A wolf like expression was spreading across his face.

Bellatrix smirked in his direction, her attention shifting from Harry to him for a fraction of a second. "Oh I forgot. My dear cousin made several undesirable friends during his time at Hogwarts." 

Walking back to stand in front of Harry, she swung a leg over his and sat down gracefully on his lap. Harry gritted his teeth, but kept eye contact with her, not daring to show his embarrassment. She bared her yellow teeth at him, apparently aware of how hard he was fighting. He felt the tip of her wand jab between his ribs, and leaning forward she whispered in his ear. "Crucio." 

For the second time that day, Harry felt the white hot pain spreading through his body. Leaning back in the chair, he tried to thrash from side to side, but he found her weight pushing him into the chair. She laughed softly in his ear, as he ground his teeth together, unwilling to give her the pleasure of hearing him scream. 

"Scream for me, Harry," she cooed but Harry shook his head violently. 

Heaving a sigh, she broke the curse. Harry slumped in his chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Her long fingers took his chin and raised his watery green eyes to hers. "He use to beg me to stop," she said, her eyes darting to Remus and then back to Harry. 

Harry's face paled. He could imagine a young Sirius being terrorized by his older cousin, hiding in his room when she came round. He'd told Harry how much he'd hated living in that house, and now Harry understood why. It made living at the Dursley's seem like a vacation. 

"Do you want me to show you what I'd do to him, Harry," she asked silkily. She shifted her weight forward on him, leaning closer to press her wet lips to his temple. Her free hand moved from his chin to rest against his belt buckle.

Harry felt a tightening his his stomach, as he pulled away from her, eyes clinched. He didn't want to imagine her touching Sirius like this. He didn't want her touching him like this. He would have given anything for it be over. 

"Alright, Bellatrix. You have had your fun," Voldemort interrupted, stepping forward from the window. 

A look of disappointment crossed the witch's face, but nonetheless she obeyed. Sliding from his lap, Bellatrix bowed to her master and withdrew to the other side of the drawing room. 

Voldemort advanced on Harry whose eyes were still clenched tight. The boy was taking short, shallow breaths, apparently trying to calm his mind. Usually, this would have been enough to satisfy the Dark Lord's anger, but not tonight. Tonight he needed to be the one punishing the boy. 

Without a word, the ropes holding the boy to the chair sprang upwards, suspending him from the rafters. His emerald green eyes opening wide, caught off guard by the sudden change in assault. Fear blazed through them, and Voldemort felt a twinge of pleasure course through him. 

"I had not planned on hurting you myself tonight, Harry, but I'll admit myself unsatisfied." He looked down at the boy who's lip had began to quiver in protest. "I think we will reverse the punishments this time, shall we? The hot poker for you, and the whip for your friend."

"No! He hasn't done anything," Harry protested, struggling against the rope. But Voldemort was already standing at the open fireplace, his hand turning the handle of a long iron poker. 

With a flick of his wand, Harry's jacket and shirt disappeared, leaving his torso exposed. Voldemort withdrew the iron and brought it over to him, the heat radiating from it's surface. Before Harry had time to protest, he was pressing it firmly against his pale stomach. 

He couldn't hold back the scream that tore through his throat. He thrashed backwards only to find Voldemort's hand holding him in place. The familiar sickening smile spread across the wizard's lips as he held the iron against the bubbling flesh. The air was thick with the smell of burning skin, Harry's incoherent cries, and Remus's pleas to stop. However, Voldemort didn't seem to be listening. 

He returned to the fire, letting the iron warm again. He watched Harry, who was now fighting to remain conscious, with a look of pure enjoyment. When the poker was red hot again, he advanced on the boy once more. 

"I want you to remember what this feels like, Potter. Remember the smell of your flesh burning when you start to think of ways of voiding our agreement." 

"Please…. don't," Harry begged through gasps of putrid air. 

Voldemort smiled maliciously. "There's a good lad. Let me hear you beg me to stop. Plead for forgiveness." 

Harry shook his head against his better judgement, suddenly aware that the words had slipped out. He would not beg. He would not ask for forgiveness for something he was not sorry for. 

The iron connected with his back this time, causing his hips to buck forward. He yelled until no sounds escaped his open mouth. He pulled at the ropes binding his wrists until blood began to streak down his arms in crimson cascades. The world around him became fuzzy around the edges as the lack of oxygen began to suffocate him. 

Voldemort pulled the iron away, throwing it back into the red coals. Snapping his long fingers, the ropes vanished, leaving Harry to crumple to the wood floor where he lay panting helplessly. He turned his head to the side retching his morning breakfast across the immaculate floor.

By the time Harry had regained some sort of hold on his bearings, he could see Remus hanging, shirtless, in the same position he had been moments ago. His cheeks were flushed with anger as he scowled down at Voldemort. Harry could not bring himself to look at him. 

"You've made your point," he spat. Every word caused his burns to sear agonizingly. "I'll get you the sword before the week is out." 

"Oh I have no doubt in that, Harry. This isn't about the sword." He brought the whip slashing down upon Lupin's back. The man gritted his teeth, but no sound escaped. Another stroke, and he was clenching his eyes. A third and tears were rolling down his red cheeks. 

"Then what do you want," Harry yelled, climbing slowly, painfully to his feet. 

"I want you to understand the consequences of your actions," Voldemort seethed. The whip tore down Remus's back again, this time a trail of blood followed in it wake. Lupin let a moan slip from his tightened lips. 

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. "I've done everything you've asked of me." 

Voldemort turned to look at him, his red eyes narrowing. "And yet you have nothing to show for it." 

"I can't magically make the sword appear," Harry said splaying his hands helplessly. 

A crack resonated around the room, followed by a growling scream. Lupin's head lolled backwards as he fought for breath. Another crack and he was begging for it to stop. 

"What do you want me to say," he pleaded. "I…I'm sorry?" He frased it as question, still unwilling to bend. 

Voldemort walked towards him, his lips pressed tight in annoyance. "You are what?" 

Snarling his nose Harry repeated himself. "I'm sorry."

"Try again, Harry. This time add some manners," Voldemort hissed. 

Harry closed his eyes but complied nonetheless. " I'm…" 

"Let me stop you there and give you a small hint. My Death Esters address me from their knees." 

Harry sucked his teeth, and forced a smile. "I'm not one of your Death Eaters." 

Smirking, Voldemort turned and brandished the whip again. The sharp snap of leather meeting skin forced Harry to his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he rambled but at the sight of the whip recoiling for another blow he quickly added "sir." 

Voldemort turned and smiled down at the boy kneeling at his feet. Reaching down, he ran his long fingers through those black strands, savoring the sight of him, before saying, "That's better. Now get me my sword."


	13. (actually 12)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 12! I didn't feel like deleting the other and putting them in the right order tonight. I may one day. Enjoy!

Over a week had passed since Harry had stormed from the Headmaster's office. Since then several things had changed. Madam Pomfrey was now allowing him visitors twice a day. Ron and Hermione had been the first to see him; Hermione had nearly reinjured his ribs after embracing him in such a tight hug. Later he was visited by Hagrid who couldn't seem to control the massive tears leaking from his swollen eyes into his tangled mess of a beard. Mr. and Mrs. Wealsey had been the last to visit. Both were smiling broadly as Mrs. Weasley threatened to take him back to the Burrow and feed him until he didn't look like death anymore. 

Second, a first year was now bringing him homework every afternoon. He was shocked to find out Professor Snape was now the Defense Against the Dark Art's professor and that a short portly man named Slughorn had taken over as potions master. While slightly disgusted at having his least favorite teacher in charge of his favorite lesson, he was glad to hear he could continue with potions in order to pursue his Auror career. 

Things had progressively been returning to normal. Voldemort had seemed to have forgotten about him, though Harry knew it was only a matter of time before that annoying voice returned to the back of his mind. Hermione was perched at the end of his cot, an Advanced Guide to Herbology open across her lap as she explained what they had learned today in the Greenhouse. Ron was helping himself to a tin of sweets his mother had brought Harry during her visit. 

"I can't believe they're making you do work," Ron said through a mouth full of toffee. 

"He's already missed three weeks worth of classes," Hermione scolded. "He doesn't need to fall behind any further." 

Harry rolled his eyes towards Ron, who stifled a laugh. "Yeah because reading lecture notes is really helping," he replied sarcastically. 

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but looking up she smiled broadly in the direction of the door.   
Walking down the row of beds was Remus Lupin. His mousy hair was shorter than when Harry had last seen him, and his face was clean shaven. A warm grin was wrinkling the thin scars that adorned his pale face. 

Harry felt his stomach drop. The smell of burning flesh and sounds of ear piercing screams blocked the world around him as he struggled to remain in the present. He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face to try and block the wave of sickness that was threatening to spill out of him. 

He could hear laughter somewhere in the distance and raised his head slightly. He tried to smile to hide the panic attack raging through his mind, but Lupin caught his eye and his face fell. He understood.

"Would you two mind if I had a word with Harry alone," Remus asked, quickly regaining his composure. 

Ron and Hermione both agreed, grabbing their books and waving as they left the Hospital Wing. It was only then that Remus quickly drew the curtains around Harry's cot; giving them the privacy Harry needed. He took several short shaky breaths, trying to regain control of his senses that were waging war against him. Dark images of Remus thrashing upon a hearth rug, a red hot poker burning into his flesh, blossomed in front of his clinched eyes. 

"Harry, it's just a panic attack. I'm right here," Lupin said, embracing Harry in a tight hug. 

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath; the smell of Remus's cloak, a mixture of damp earth and cool autumn air, filled his nostrils. His hands clutched tight to the worn fabric, afraid that if he let go the wave of dark thoughts would sweep him under. He remained still, allowing the hug to continue as his heart rate steadied and his vision returned. Normally he would have found it awkward hugging his former professor, but at that moment it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

Unclasping his aching fingers, Harry let himself fall back into the soft pillow propped against the headboard. Remus sat on the edge of the matress watching Harry closely. He looked on the verge of speaking but Harry beat him to it. 

"I'm fine," he said shortly. Casting his eyes to the opposite side of the room. The hangings were now blocking the rest of the wing, but Harry stared intensely at it as if he could see straight through them. Looking at Remus was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment; afraid that the guilt of what he'd been put through would push him back over the edge. 

Silence over took them for several minutes, only the distant sound of students making their way back to their common room before curfew could be heard in the corridor outside. Remus seemed to be weighing his next words carefully, casting unsure glances in Harry's direction. He opened and shut his mouth several times before speaking in a soft whisper. 

"There's nothing you could have done differently, Harry. You can't blame yourself." 

Harry shook his head. "I could have refused. I could still refuse." 

Remus paled a bit, his eyes shifting down to the polished floor. "I think you should." 

Harry's eyes snapped up to stare at Remus, not wanting to believe what he'd heard. "He'd kill you," he said quietly. 

"But what bargaining chip would he have then? If he couldn't threaten you by hurting me this would all be over." 

Harry knew that wasn't true. He would still have Voldemort controlling his thoughts, and there were others he could threaten just as easily. No, Harry knew that without a way to stop this connection he was at the Dark Lord's mercy. 

"He would still have the upper hand," Harry said as Remus turned to look at him. "He can see my thoughts, even control what I see. Until I can stop that he will always have the tools to manipulate me." 

"I…I didn't know..." Remus began, a look of horror on his slim face. 

" That's what all this has been about. Since that night at the ministry he's been trying to perfect and use that power." 

Lupin raised his thin eyebrows in surprise. "Does Dumbledore know about any of this?" 

An angry frown formed on Harry's face at the mention of Dumbledore's name. "He suspects," he replied shortly, unable to keep the contempt from infiltrating his voice. 

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore is not your enemy. No matter what thoughts Voldemort put into your mind…" 

"This has nothing to do with Voldemort," Harry spat vehemently. "Dumbledore should have told me about his suspicions instead of ignoring me all term. If he would have warned me I could have been more cautious. Sirius would…" He trailed off, a lump now blocking his throat. He felt a prickle in the corner of his eyes and he looked up in an attempt to ward off the tears threatening to spill from his fluttering lids. 

Remus didn't answer. Instead he closed his eyes and dropped his head, his hands tightening on the mattress edge. "Sirius would have…"

"I don't want to talk about what Sirius would have done," Harry said quietly. "Remus, you're…you're the only one I have left. The only person who I can talk to about this. I just... I just need you to be here." Every word rolled out of his mouth with out processing. He allowed himself to let go, feeling the weight of his words lift from his shoulders. Since he'd arrived back at Hogwarts he'd calculated his every word carefully, afraid that he would slip and someone would see through to the truth. 

Remus brought his eyes up to meet Harry's, a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Of course, Harry." 

****************************************************

Harry awoke the next morning with a tight knot of anxiety blocking his stomach. He dressed slowly, listening as the sounds of the castle stirring floated up to the open Hospital Wing door. The knot tightened as he thought of joining the rest of the students in the Great Hall for breakfast. He had a taste of what was to come when he'd visited the Headmaster. All the whispering, pointing and gawking were enough to make Harry contemplate returning to the Dursley's. 

Worst of all was the thought of seeing Draco Malfoy for the first time. He'd been locked in his cellar for months; tortured by his father even. The very idea of having to look that git in the face made Harry's blood turn to ice. 

Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was more than insistent. She basically threw him from the ward after he'd dressed, complaining that he'd be late for breakfast if he kept dawdling. She also made sure to remind him to take it easy for the next couple of weeks. The wounds were healed but she warned him that overexerting his weak body could cause serious damage. 

Despite his apprehension, Harry's trip to the Great Hall was quite uneventful. A few stares mingled with soft whispers broke through huddled groups, but he'd had much worse in past years. It wasn't until he reached the Great Hall that his presence really caused a disturbance. 

Walking through the large double doors, the roar of chattering students came suddenly to a hault. It was as if someone had pushed the mute button on the world around him. Every head turned to watch as he made his way hurriedly to the Gryffindor table, his head bowed low to hide it's flushing colors. The vast majority of his fellow Gryffindors greeted him with waves and smiles, but there were a few that could only watch as he sat down between Hermione and Ron. 

"That wasn't so bad," Hermione said, passing him a plate laden with sausages without looking up from the Daily Prophet. 

"You're joking right," he asked taking a sausage and placing it on his empty plate. The room had returned to it's normal buzzing chatter, but Harry couldn't help but notice that several eyes were still glancing his way. He busied himself with scooping a spoon full of eggs onto his plate to accompany the sausage. "At least the worst part's over." 

Beside him Ron paused, a piece of toast halfway shoved into his mouth. Cutting his eyes at Harry, he swallowed the mouthful of bread and raised his eyebrows. "Did you look at your schedule this morning," he asked tentatively. 

"Yeah, but it wasn't anything too terrible." Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment. Unfolding it, he skimmed the lines until he found the right day. He shrugged his shoulders as he read the first time block. "It's just Defence Against the Dark…" He trailed off, sudden realization overcoming him. Snape was the new Professor. 

"I thought you already knew," Ron said. He looked away from Harry quickly as if he had just delivered the news of a death in the family. 

Harry's spirits plummeted further as he glared at the writing on the parchment. He'd read the schedule the night before, but the connection between Snape and his favorite class had slipped his mind. He couldn't face Snape, not today. The memory of those hollow black eyes staring at him from beneath the Death Eater's mask was enough by itself to send Harry into a rage. He couldn't begin to imagine what actually having to listen to the man teach for an hour would do. 

Shaking his head, he pushed his untouched food away and looked up and down the Gryffindor table. "Who do think has some Puking Pasties?" 

Hermione dropped her paper sternly to the table, a look of pure outrage lining her face. "Harry, no. You've already missed enough without skiving off on the first day. Besides," she glared at him as he threatened to interrupt her. "Everyone has already seen you this morning. Professor Snape will know you're using Weasley products." 

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he knew she was right. Clicking his teeth together, he turned back to the table and began poking his eggs with a fork absentmindedly. He could feel Ron and Hermione exchange looks behind his back, but he ignored it. They had every right to be concerned. The best Harry could hope for was that Snape would be just as keen on ignoring him. 

Half an hour later they were were standing outside the locked classroom door, dread filling Harry's chest like a massive weight. He would have given anything to leave the throng of people waiting for the door to open, but Hermione was standing at his elbow as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Taking a deep breath, he fidgeted with the straps of his backpack, pulling it away from his chest. 

The door to the classroom swung open, and a sour faced Snape appeared in the corridor. "Inside," he said flatly, his dark eyes sweeping over the mass. 

Harry dropped his gaze immediately. Filing into the room, the first thing he noticed was how different it was compared to previous years. Snape had really poured his own style into the once bright room; there were long black drapes over the windows and gruesome painting of wizards under various curses hung on the walls. His stomach clinched at the sight of the man staring blank eyed out of the portrait, a shade of bright green surrounding him. 

Dropping his bag to the ground, Harry slumped down in an empty seat next to Ron. Behind them, the door shut with a snap and Snape stalked to the front of the room, his cloak flowing behind him. He let his eyes wander over the class again, before they came to rest on Harry. His thin lips curled into an ominous sneer; it was obvious he had no intention of ignoring him.

"Today we will be concluding our study of nonverbal spells, though there are a few of you that have yet to master the technique." His attention shifted to Neville who squirmed guiltily in his seat. Harry thought about the practice he'd done in his hospital bed. The most he'd accomplished was a slight shaking of a mug as he tried to summon it from across the room without speaking. However, according to Ron, Hermione was the only one who seemed to be able to use them regularly. 

"Let's try a demonstration before we split into pairs. Let's see," Snape scanned the room as if searching for a volunteer, but Harry knew what was coming. Those coal black eyes settled on him with a vengeful gaze. "Ah Potter. We are so happy to have you back," he mocked, his arms opening wide in an over-exaggerated welcome. "Why don't you join me in demonstrating to the class how to preform a shield charm using nonverbal magic." 

Harry held Snape's eye as he racked his brain for an excuse. He knew Snape was using this for an opportunity to humiliate him in retaliation for the broken nose he'd given him a month ago. Apparently the story had spread like wild fire through the castle, causing Snape to be the butt of several outrageous jokes. Harry could easily scense the longing Snape had for a little revenge. 

Forcing a shrug, Harry straightened slightly in his chair. "I'm afraid I'm one of those few who still haven't mastered it, Professor. Best chose someone who has a little more knowledge." 

Snape's sneer broadened at this. "Perhaps you'll be able to perform it under pressure. You're fairly good at that." 

Harry's eyes narrowed at this, unsure if Snape was illuding to something else, but before he could refuse again, the Professor pressed on. "You've gotten quite good at taking orders, so stand up and come up here." 

Harry didn't have to guess what Snape's words meant, it was all right there; hidden in plain sight. Anger overtook anxiety, and he pushed his chair back roughly, the wooden legs screeching loudly against the stone flooring. Every eye followed him as he made his way to stand across from the Professor. Reaching inside his cloak, he clutched the handle of his wand tightly as he withdrew it from his pocket. 

"Now, I will attempt to jinx Potter nonverbally and he, in turn , will try and protect himself without speaking," Snape said to the class. He had turned to face them, but Harry's attention remained fixed on the greasy headed professor. From the corner of his eye he could see Hermione's cautioning stare and he willed himself not to look at her. He'd be damned if he was just going to stand there and let Snape humiliate him. 

The Professor turned and faced Harry, that sickening smile still playing across his lips. Without warning, a burst of red light shot from Snape's wand, giving Harry no time to react. It hit him square in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards onto the cold floor. Air was forced from his lungs and his hand immediately clutched at his ribs. Mended or not, they still burned like fire even with the lightest touch. 

Rolling to his side, he rose slowly to his feet. The room was unnaturally quite as everyone stared at the pair in shock. If the Slytherins had been present he would have faced an uproar of laughter. Somehow, he thought he would have preferred that to the gaping mouths of his fellow Gryffindors. Panting, he rubbed his side, trying to soothe the ache. 

Snape stared at him triumphantly, his eyes burning with delight. "Let's try that again, Potter. By now you should at least be able to produce a shield charm. It's not as if I'm asking you to kill someone." 

The last comment cought Harry off guard. The blood drained from his face and for a moment he lost sight of the room around him. He was standing instead in the middle of a dark drawing room. In front of him Snape was smirking from beneath his silver Death Eater's mask and at his feet was the body of a muggle staring blankly at the ceiling. His stomach dropped and he tore his eyes away from the rigid body. 

Snape raised his wand and a burst of light erupted from the end once again. Harry was ready this time despite his swirling thoughts. Side stepping the jet of red, he leveled his wand and without hesitation shouted, "Flipendo!" 

Taken by surprise, the spell knocked Snape off his feet and sent him tumbling back against his desk. The classroom was stunned for the space of a long breath and then it burst with laughter. Harry, however remained stoic, his anger still fighting to control him. He took an advancing step, wand still raised, but Snape was already regaining his composure. He rose to his feet, a hand reaching up to feel behind his head; the pale fingers reemerged with a glint of red staining their tips. The laughter died immediately. 

Professor Snape glared at Harry, every hint of a smile gone from his face, replaced instead by a burning rage. "Class dismissed," he said quietly but when no one made an attempt to rise he shouted, "GET OUT!" 

Loud scuffling broke through the stunned silence as the students grabbed their bags and hurried from the room. Harry made to turn but fingers wrapped painfully around his bicep and tugged him back sharply. He looked up into Snape's livid face, dread coursing through him.

"Shut the door, Weasley," Snape snapped as Ron and Hermione hesitantly made their way from the room. Harry caught their worried glances just before the door shut softly behind them. 

Alone, Snape jerked Harry around by the arm until they were standing toe to toe. "So, Potter you think you are above punishment now that you're back safely at school?" His voice was barely above a whisper but it shook Harry worse than yelling. He fumbled around for the right words to build his argument but his mind was completely blank for once. "Answer me!" Snape shouted with another sharp tug on Harry's arm. 

"You were going to jinx me again," Harry said feebly.

"That is the point of this lesson in case you haven't noticed, Potter. You were to perform a nonverbal shield charm. Instead you attacked me and would have continued if I hadn't regained my bearings quickly."

Harry thought of the step he'd taken towards Snape after he'd struck the desk. Had he actually planned to continue his assault? Pushing the thought from his mind, he remembered why he'd attacked in the first place. 

"You goaded me," he said stubbornly, his anger returning. " 'Not asking you to kill someone.' What the hell did you expect me to do?" 

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I was merely making a remark on how simple nonverbal magic was. In case you are not aware, everything is not about you," he said cooly.

"That's a bloody lie! You knew exactly what you were saying!" Harry was shouting now, unable to control his rising temper. Snape had known that those particular words would set Harry off without raising suspicion from the rest of the class. 

Snape smiled cruelly and shrugged his thin shoulders. He leaned down until his hooked nose was inches from Harry's. "It is not my fault you are having a difficult time acclimating back into society. I guess after months of being treated like a dog, I thought you would be better at following commands." His hot breath washed over Harry's face, each word dripping with sarcasm. 

Harry jerked his arm in an attempt to free himself. He didn't have to stand there and listen to this. If Snape wanted to punish him for his actions, fine, but he would have to take it up with McGonagall. However, the grip on his bicep shifted until his arm was twisted painfully behind his back. Snape used Harry's momentum to shove him roughly forward, pushing until his face collided against the dark oak desktop, knocking his glasses askew. The Professor used this leverage to bare down against the boy's arm, driving it into the small of his back. 

Harry gasped as the tendons in his arm stretched to their limits. His face rubbed against the rough surface as Snape pushed the entirety of his weight against him. He tried frantically to push back, but his trainers slipped against the stone floor causing him to fall fully against the desk. Pain shot through his hips as they connected with the sharp edge. Grinding his teeth, he fought to gain traction but Snape pushed harder against him. 

Above him, he felt Snape's weight sift as he used his free hand to pull his wand from his pocket. The door gave a soft click as the lock slid into the groove, preventing anyone from bursting in. He placed his wand hand above Harry's head and leaned in closer. The movement twisted his wrist sharply, producing a small grunt from Harry's flared nostrils. 

"Is this better, Potter," he sneered. His rigid breathing coming directly into Harry's ear. "This is more what you are used to is it not?" 

Harry tossed his head back, but Snape was ready. He shoved forcefully against the boy's stretched arm and Harry couldn't repress the small cry as his shoulder gave a slight pop. He pressed his face against the desk as if he could escape through it, his breath coming in anxious gasps. 

"Now that I have your attention, let's get a few things straight. Just because you are back behind these castle walls does not mean you are safe from repercussions. Cross me again and you will find there are worse things than a dislocated shoulder." As if to make his point, Snape pulled his arm once more and a series of small pops echoed around the room. Harry thrashed against the man's weight but to no avail. "Are we clear, Potter?" 

At Harry's hesitation he brought the boy up slightly from the desk and slammed him back down. Stars blossomed before his eyes, and Harry nodded quickly. Anything to get the man off him. 

"I need to hear you say it, Potter," he seethed viciously. 

"Yes," Harry gasped through gritted teeth and with another pull of his arm he quickly added. "Sir." 

Satisfied, Snape stood up and straightened his robes, leaving Harry to collapse awkwardly to the floor. Clutching his shoulder, Harry massaged it, trying to return the feeling to his numb fingers. His hatred for Snape rose drastically, but he remained seated, his eyes downcast . He couldn't bring himself to look up into Snape's gloating face. 

"I think it best we have a little chat with the Headmaster about your actions," Snape continued.

Harry's head snapped up. "You've made your point already," he said, straightening his aching arm. 

Snape reached down and drug Harry to his feet, shoving him towards the door. "I'm sure Dumbledore would want to know about a student attacking a teacher." Unlocking the door, he pulled Harry into the corridor and marched him towards the Gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office. 

Fear swirled inside Harry's mind as they reached the landing. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't expell him, but after their last meeting he wasn't sure how he would react. Harry was certain Snape would spin the story in a way that would make him look like he was in the wrong. After rapping on the door, they only had to wait a minute before a voice beckoned them in. 

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a quill pressed against a long roll of parchment. His blue eyes flickered up to look over his half-moon glasses before raising his head in surprise. He glanced between Snape and Harry before his eyes came to rest on Snape's hand gripping tight to Harry's arm. Eyebrows raised he set down his quill. 

"Professor Snape, how can I help you," he asked pleasently, folding his arms across his desk. 

"Headmaster, sorry for the interruption, but Mr. Potter has just attacked me in front of the class." 

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Snape jerked his arm roughly. 

"Severus," Dumbledore said sternly. "Let go of Harry's arm."

Snape released his grip reluctantly, and folded his arms across his chest. Satisfied Dumbledore continued. 

"Now, what exactly happened." 

"I was lecturing the class on nonverbal charms when I asked Mr. Potter to help me give a demonstration on how to use a shield charm nonverbally. Instead he dodged my spell and used the Flepindo charm against me. Once I was in the ground he continued to advance towards me." 

It was exactly as Harry had suspected. Not once in his story had Snape lied, however he had conveniently left out a few details that would explain Harry's actions. Looking down at the floor, Harry studied his shoes intently, waiting for his punishment. 

"Is this true, Harry," Dumbledore asked quietly. 

Raising his gaze, Harry met the Headmaster's eye. "It was an instinctive reaction," he explained truthfully. "Professor Snape had already jinxed me once and since I couldn't perform the spell nonverbally I just sort of reacted." 

The Headmaster studies him for a minute. "And after Professor Snape was on the ground?" 

Harry looked away quickly despite knowing how guilty it made him look. He was still unsure why he had taken that step forward and explaining it seemed impossible. "I took one step forward. I wasn't advancing on…" 

"You had your wand raised," Snape interjected furiously. 

"You were provoking me!" 

Dumbledore raised a hand and cleared his throat loudly. Standing, he rounded the desk and stopped in front of them. "Severus may I have a word with you," he asked motioning towards the door. "Harry if you will have a seat. This should only take a minute." He ushered a bewildered Snape through the open door and closed it softly behind them leaving Harry alone in the large office. 

Looking around, his emerald eyes fell on the sword glistening in the candle light. A surge of adrenaline flooded his veins and he took half a step towards it before pulling up short. He could take it now. No one was there to stop him. 

"Take it!" Came a shrill voice inside his head. "The old man is gone. Take it before he returns!" 

Another step, but how was he going to get it out of there without someone seeing? 

"Transfigure it," the voice replied hungrily, but Harry ignored it. His pulse was racing as he stared at the sword, a war raging in his mind. If he took it now Dumbledore would notice it's absence, and having been alone in the office, Harry would be the prime suspect. Plus he wasn't completely confident in his transfiguration skills. 

Taking a step back, he turned instead to the empty chairs. Sinking down against the cushions, a furious voice echoed through his head. "Potter get up and get that sword!" 

"No," Harry said simply to the empty room. Behind him came the rattle of the door handle signaling Dumbledore's return. Frustration, aggravation, and rage progressed through him as he watched the Headmaster reclaim his seat behind his desk. 

"Quite the first day back, Harry," he said with a warm smile. He returned his quill to the ink well and rolled up the parchment he'd been working on before clasping his hands together atop the cleared surface. "I do believe you meant no harm of course." 

"I…you do?" The snarky retort was cut short as Harry stared taken aback. He'd expected Dumbledore to give him a lecture on respecting Professor Snape, but looking up he saw a gentle smile turn into a short laugh. 

"I dare say that Professor Snape was still angry with you for the broken nose you gave him a few weeks ago. He's particularly good at holding grudges. However, both of you will have to find some middle ground if you plan on continuing Defense Against the Dark Arts." His blue eyes twinkled over the half-moon glasses as he gave Harry a knowing look. 

Harry nodded in disbelief but before he could say anything, Dumbledore pressed on. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he said leaning forward in his chair slightly. "I would be honored if you would join me for a few private lessons this term." 

Harry furrowed his brows, a thousand questions running through his mind at once. "What would you be teaching me," he asked sceptically. 

"I have procured a few memories pertaining to a young Tom Riddle. I think knowing our enemy helps us understand how he later would become Lord Voldemort." 

Intrigue rippled Harry's mind; whether his own or Voldemort's he wasn't sure. "I guess. If you think it would be helpful," he replied hesitantly after a long pause. He couldn't see how learning about Voldemort's past could benefit him, especially while being spied on. 

"Excellent," Dumbledore exclaimed. Rising from his seat, he led Harry towards the door. "I'll send for you as soon as I'm ready. Mind you, it will be a few weeks before I will have everything in order. Until then, try and stay on Professor Snape's good side."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short chapter and to be honest, I hate it. It's choppy and rushed but I needed something to progress to the next part. I feel like this story has run its course, so I'm slowly starting to wrap it up. Thank you to everyone that has stuck with me!

The trek back to the castle was excruciating. Each step brought lightning hot pain across Harry's back and abdomen as his shirt brushed his unbandaged burns. If he could just get to the common room, he knew there was a jar of Murtlap Essence in his bedside table. Madam Pomfrey had given him an additional container for the gashes he had received from Lucius's knife that seemed stubborn to heal. All he had to do was survive the walk.

Much to Harry's luck, there were few people on the road that afternoon and he was able to reach the boundary gates without meeting anyone he knew. Ahead of him, the castle towers came into view, looming over the vacant grounds. Apparently, everyone was either at lunch in the Great Hall or still roaming the village shops. Either way, Harry was grateful that no one was around to see him walking awkwardly up the front steps into the entrance hall. 

It took him nearly twice the regular time to reach Gryffindor tower. Gasping for breath, he jerked open the drawer next to his four-poster bed and collected the jar of green puss and two rolls of bandages. He checked the dormitory once more to be sure he was alone before pulling his shirt over his head. His breath caught in his chest as his blistered skin pulled tight with each movement of his arms. Turning to the mirror that hung on the wall opposite his bed, he could see the angry red welts that separated the unharmed skin from the charred flesh that was already beginning to flake away from his body. Lightly, he brought his fingers up to examine the blackened area, only to find that it was numb to the touch. However, as his fingers brushed one of the many blisters, he sucked in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth. Several had burst open on his walk back to the castle, and a mixture of blood and puss was seeping down his stomach. Closing his eyes to the grotesque sight, he steadied himself for the task at hand. 

He walked the length of the small room and poured water from the pitcher beside the window into the glass basin. Soaking a rag in the cool water, he brought it up and first began to wipe away the residue around the burn. He rung out the stained cloth and drenched it again, his once clean water now a murky shade of pink. This time he brought it to the blistered flesh. Taking several shaky breaths, he closed his eyes and pressed the icy linen firmly against his torso. The muscles in his face constricted into a tight grimace as an animalistic growl forced itself through his gritted teeth. He was certain that all of his skin was fusing with the rag and once he removed it, it would all pull away from his body. However, once he had worked up the courage to pull it away, he found that despite a few new busted blisters, everything was the same. He let his head roll to his chest as he fought the lightheadedness that now spun the walls around him.

Once he had steadied his vision, he loosened the jar lid and dipped his fingers into the glistening substance. Gently, oh so gently, Harry massaged the thick goo over his pulsing wound. A cool sensation spread over him, sending goose flesh and a shiver across exposed skin. In a strange way, it was a relief. 

The burn on his back was a little more difficult to tend to. For the most part, he was able to use his wand to guide the rag but applying the Murtlap proved most tedious. After a few minutes of trial and error, Harry finished up by applying the bandages around his upper half. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his mattress with an exasperated sigh. Immediate regret overtook him as the collision to his burns sent a fresh wave of heat across his entire body. 

Footsteps sounded outside the closed door, signaling the approach of someone. Suddenly aware of the horrendous state of the dormitory, Harry scrambled for his wand. With a quick flick, he drained the crimson-stained water basin and hid the blood-covered rag and shirt in his trunk. Leaning back on his pillow, he aimed his wand towards his trunk. "Accio shirt, " he said softly. Catching the jumper, he pulled it over his head just as the door swung wide. 

Ron came through the door followed closely by a worried-looking Hermione. Harry had just enough time to register Ron's flushed cheeks before the redhead burst out in anger. 

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, " he demanded, coming to a stop at the foot of Harry's bed. His vibrant hair was windswept and bits of leaves clung to the edges completing the deranged appearance. "We've been searching for you for hours." 

Harry held his gaze as a frown pulled at the corners of his tightly pressed lips. Instead of shame, anger boiled close to the surface. "I told you I had to come back to the castle." 

"You said you would meet us for lunch, " Ron spat. 

" Ron…" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had to report my every decision to you." Harry sat forward quickly and felt his bandages pull tight. He winced against the pain but pressed on regardless. "I didn't feel well so I came back. There, happy?" 

Instead of looking satisfied, Ron seemed if possible, more agitated. "You couldn't bother letting us know? We sat at the Three Broomsticks for hours waiting." 

"I hate that my injuries inconvenienced your weekend." Harry was nearly shouting now. After everything he had been through that day, Ron was angry about a missed lunch. What he wouldn't give to tell him exactly why he had come back to the castle. He was sure that the imagery would wipe that stupid expression off his freckled face. 

Hermione moved tentatively to sit on the end of Harry's bed, but Ron flushed deeper; his cheeks now almost the same shade as his hair. 

"Forget it, " he muttered, moving back towards the open door. "It's obvious you were only thinking about yourself." With this, he slammed the door behind him. 

Harry grabbed the nearest item and chucked it at the place Ron had been standing. Shards of glass splintered across the room, falling to the floor with soft clattering tinks. A green substance slowly slid down the wood where the jar had collided and Harry realized that he had thrown the remainder of his Murtlap Essence. With a frustrated sigh, he slumped back into his soft pillow. 

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione struggling to remain quiet. She kept chancing small glances in his direction as if afraid he would explode on her next. Heaving a sigh, Harry willed himself to calm down. 

"I should have let you know I wasn't coming back, " he said softly. 

"He's just worried about you, " she explained without looking up from her clenched hands. 

"He has a fine way of showing it." 

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Most boys do." 

Harry wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and argue with her, but he couldn't deny she had a point. A grin replaced his frown and he rolled his eyes playfully. 

"He'll get over it, " she continued. "Just don't hold this against him." 

Harry nodded reluctantly. A silence fell over them for a minute as they let the tension fade away. Harry absentmindedly fiddled with the edge of his sheets while trying to think of a change in subject. What he really wanted was some time alone to figure out how he was going to manage to get the sword from Dumbledore's office. 

"Have you finished the work Flitwick gave us, " Hermione asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

Glancing to the Charms book that was open on his bedside table, Harry snarled his nose. They had been working on an Extension Charm and despite his best efforts, he'd only managed to expand the room in his backpack a few inches. He had placed the blame on the fact that he had missed several weeks of lessons, but honestly, he was just struggling with the charm. 

"Nope. I can fit maybe an extra book in, but that's it." 

"I can help you if you want. I've been able to extend mine enough that I can nearly fit my entire trunk in." 

An idea struck Harry like a bludger. If he could extend his pack enough, he could easily fit the sword in it during his next meeting with Dumbledore. 

"That would be great!" 

Nearly two hours had passed before Harry could confidently perform the charm. In that time, an embarrassed looking Ron had returned to the dormitory in search of forgiveness. He explained, while never looking up from his trainers, that he had merely been worried but somewhere along the way his worry had changed to anger. Despite Harry's reluctance, he waved off Ron's apology and invited him to join. They spent the remainder of the time before dinner eating sweets and joking about learning how to express their emotions. 

On Tuesday morning at breakfast, an apprehensive second year brought a folded piece of parchment to Harry. Unfolding it, Harry saw the elegant green writing of Professor Dumbledore scrawled across the page. 

_Six O'Clock this evening, my office._

Ron tilted his head to get a clear view of the writing, a fork protruding from his mouth.

"What's Dumbledore want, " he asked around the eggs he was chewing.

Harry folded the parchment and stuck it inside his pocket."Some sort of private lessons. He talked to me about it last time I saw him, " he said calmly, but inside his stomach was performing backflips. 

Hermione's eyes brightened. "Oh, that would be interesting, " she exclaimed. "I would give anything to learn from Professor Dumbledore." She was staring glassy-eyed over Harry's shoulder, lost completely in thought. 

Ron blinked several times and looked to Harry in confusion. Shrugging their shoulders together, he returned to his plate. 

"I'm not sure what the lessons will actually be about yet," Harry continued. He was talking more now to fill the empty space as his mind whirled with the plans he had been constructing over that last couple of days. Each night he'd made sure his roommates were asleep before practicing the Gemino spell. He'd come across the incantation while searching the library for anything that would help him duplicate the sword so its disappearance would go unnoticed. He'd managed to copy several goblets and a quill but they were far from perfect. His only hope was that no one would be inspecting the sword too closely. 

"I'm sure whatever it is, it will be fascinating, " Hermione said, snapping from her daydream. 

Harry nodded while poking his food half-heartedly with his fork, his appetite suddenly diminished. "I'm sure it will be, " he muttered. 

At fifteen minutes till six, Harry was standing on the landing to the Headmaster's office, anxiety forcing his heart to hammer painfully against his chest. He momentarily thought about leaving and returning to the common room. He could say he forgot or say that he wasn't feeling well, but he knew that if he didn't do this now who knows when he'd have another chance. Collecting his wits, he knocked hesitantly against the door. 

"Come in, " a voice called. 

Turning the brass handle, Harry entered the chamber with a polite smile plastered across his face. Dumbledore was seated, as usual, behind his ornate desk. Atop the surface was a large dish; a shimmering liquid swirling within casted an eerie light across his wrinkle creased face. Crossing the room, Harry dropped his bag and took a seat without prompting. The old Headmaster took no notice though and smiled warmly. 

"I'm glad you have accepted my invitation, Harry. I am hoping that by exploring these memories together, we can form a clear picture of the boy that would one day become Lord Voldemort." 

An annoying sense of intrigue coursed through Harry's mind. "Why is this important, " he asked, choosing to ignore the new presence. 

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair slightly. "By the time we are finished," he began, his whispy brows raising slightly, "I believe that will be more clear." With this, he stood and produced a small vile from inside the top drawer of his desk. Unstoppering the bottle, he tipped the content into the swirling pensive. 

"Now, Harry, if you would join me, we will…" What they would do, however, was lost as the chamber door burst open, cutting the Headmaster's sentence short. A disheveled looking Filch stood in the frame, his gnarled face twisted into an irate grimace. 

"Sorry to interrupt, Headmaster but Peeves is chucking dungbombs in the Entrance Hall and no matter what I threaten he won't quit." The caretaker's words spilled out in quick succession nearly blending together as he stumbled over himself. 

Professor Dumbledore lowered his head and peered over his half-moon glasses. He studied the out-of-breath Filch for half a minute before sighing and shaking his head softly. He turned his gaze to Harry and gave an apologetic lopsided smile. 

"Unfortunately, it seems we will have to adjourn until tomorrow night, Harry. Same time," he said, making his way to the door. Pausing, he turned back and added, "I'll trust you to let yourself out." With that, he pursued the caretaker from the room, the door swinging shut behind him. 

Harry remained rooted in his chair, hardly daring to believe his luck. Slowly, his green eyes were drawn to the sword sitting high on the shelf, it's metallic surface reflecting the twinkling candlelight that lit the room. He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair as a thousand thoughts flooded his mind at once. Everything around him was drowned out by the internal turmoil as his own morals fought fervently against the sharp voice demanding that he seize this opportunity.

"Get me that sword now, Potter!" 

Swallowing his pride, Harry angerly shot to his feet. It only took a handful of strides before he was standing in front of the high shelf. Rising up on the tips of his trainers, he reached up and pressed the cold steel against his palm and wrapped his fingers around the ruby studded hilt. He brought it down to eye level and considered it for a minute, unsure of what he was about to do. Casting one last glance over his shoulder, he brought out his wand and tapped the blade. 

For a long minute, nothing happened. Harry's stomach sank as he went over all the studying he'd done on the Gemino spell, trying desperately to figure out his mistake. Just as he raised his wand to try again, the sword began to vibrate slightly before splitting into two separate objects. Relief washed over him, as he quickly picked up the duplicate and set it back on the shelf. Half running across the room, Harry snapped open his bag and buried the original into the depths of the extended space. 

"Good job, boy. Now bring it to me."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the conclusion of this work. I'm excited and sad all at the same time. Hope to have it done soon.

Harry stood nervously in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other and brought a shaky hand up to loosen the red and gold tie from around his neck. He had been directed to wait there after a young wizard, barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts, had answered the door and skulked off into the adjacent drawing room to announce his arrival. Despite his nerves, Harry felt a pang of agitation for being kept waiting. The sooner he delivered this damned sword, the sooner this whole experience would be over. 

"Come in, Harry," a voice called silkily from inside the room. 

The fact that he had been called Harry, not boy or Potter, let Harry know that Voldemort was at least in a good mood. Whatever mood he was in, however, told little about what was about to transpire. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry forced his numb legs to carry him across the hall and through the open doors into the dark room. 

Voldemort was sitting at a small writing desk, a quill poised delicately between his slender fingers. He didn't look up as Harry came to a stop at the edge of the beautifully stitched rug that lined the sitting area. Instead, he seemed lost in thought as he continued to scratch the nib of the feather across the parchment before him. Harry remained quiet, watching as the man stopped briefly to scan his previous words before continuing his sentence. It was almost surreal to see Voldemort doing such a menial task. 

The Dark Lord deposited his quill back into the ink well and Harry could see his red eyes scan the page once more. Apparently satisfied, he folded the parchment and spun his chair to face the teenage Death Eater that was standing at attention beside the table. 

"I want the owl out tonight. Be sure to use an Impervious charm on the letter, I do not want it getting wet in this rain." 

"Yes, My Lord," the boy answered. Taking the letter, he half-ran from the room in his haste to obey his orders.

Harry's eyes followed him to the door and watched as it closed softly behind him. A heavy sigh drew his attention back to the writing desk, but Voldemort was no longer seated there. Instead, he was standing at a small table that held several glass decanters and drinking glasses. Pouring an amber liquid into a small glass, Voldemort continued to ignore Harry as he took a small sip. 

Frustration pulled at Harry's lips until they pursed slightly. Voldemort turned to him with a knowing grin. 

"Something wrong, Harry?" 

" No, I love being kept…" Harry clamped his lips closed, biting off the words that had slipped unfiltered from his mouth. Not trusting himself to speak again, he chose to shake his head instead. 

Voldemort chuckled softly and drained the remainder of his glass before setting it down on the wooden surface with a soft clink. 

"Our last meeting escalated a bit too far I think, " he said coolly while pacing towards the place where Harry stood. Standing toe to toe with the boy, he reached up and took Harry's tie in his hands. With a sharp tug, he tightened and straightened it until Harry could feel it pressing uncomfortably against his windpipe. Voldemort's red eyes traced their way up to Harry's as he pulled the tie tighter. Harry instinctively tried to take a step back, but the grip tightened further. "So let us save the cheek." 

Dropping Harry's tie, Voldemort took a single step back and held out his hands. 

"Now, I believe you have something that belongs to me." 

Pulling at his collar, Harry reluctantly dropped his bag to the rug and opened the clasp. Digging deep into the depths, he fumbled around until his fingertips brushed the cold steel of the sword hilt. Slowly he withdrew the shimmering blade from his backpack, unable to bring his gaze up to those hungry red pupils. With the sword lying across both hands, he studied it as a heavy weight settled on his stomach. Memories of when he had first pulled the sword from the Sorting Hat filled his head and his fingers curled around the blade in a silent protest of letting go.

Voldemort tugged the sword from his hands, the sharp edge leaving a small cut as it was yanked free. The old man examined it with a small grin, his fingers tracing the rubies that lined the handle. 

"Are we through, " Harry asked, barely hiding the frustration in his voice. 

Laying the sword across a nearby chair, Voldemort looked up at the boy and clapped his hands together. 

"Of course, but before you leave, I have a surprise waiting for you in the Great Hall, " he said, motioning towards the door at the end of the room. 

Harry didn't like the look that was playing across that thin face. Biting his bottom lip, he shook his head slightly. 

"I just want to go back to the castle." 

"After you see what I have for you, " Voldemort replied, his smile broadening. "It took a great deal to get it here." With this, he turned and held the door open for Harry to follow. 

Knowing he had no other choice, Harry pursued his enemy out into the wide hall that connected several rooms. They turned to the left and entered another vast chamber. A long table had been pushed to one side, leaving a large area that was already filled with several cloaked figures in masks. In the middle, a man was kneeling on the hardwood flooring, a bag covering his face. However, Harry didn't need to see the face to know that the former Minister of Magic was cowering before him. 

Stopping immediately, he turned back around only to find Voldemort blocking his escape. Harry had been here before; he knew all too well what would be expected of him. 

"I'm not doing this, " he whispered, not wanting Fudge to hear his voice. He made to push past the older Wizard, but Voldemort reached an arm around his chest to stop him. 

"What's wrong, Harry, " he asked in his ear. "I have not asked you to do anything yet."

Gritting his teeth, Harry cocked his head to look at Voldemort. " I know exactly what you want and I'm not playing along anymore." 

The Dark Lord raised his head and examined Harry through squinted lids. The crowd around them was silent except for the panicked breaths of Cornelius Fudge. 

"The former Minister has been hesitant to give us the information we desire. However, I think a few minutes under the Cruciatus Curse should loosen his tongue, " Voldemort paused here, his hand spinning Harry to face the prisoner. "This is where you come in, Harry." 

Harry felt his stomach roll and he closed his eyes to the spiraling room. He knew this was an order he couldn't follow, no matter the consequences. Shaking his head again, he tried to find the words to express his refusal but his mouth failed him. 

"You have two choices, Harry. Get me the information or I will kill him. On one hand, Fudge walks out of here with no recollection of what has happened to him. On the other hand, he dies here, at your feet, and you will live with the fact that you had the opportunity to save him." 

"I can't…" 

Voldemort chuckled softly and gripped Harry's shoulders from behind. "If you are worried about Fudge recognizing you, we can always get you a mask." 

The idea of wearing a Death Eaters mask repulsed Harry further but before he could respond, the Dark Lord spoke again.

"Actually, no, " he said and with a flick of his wand the burlap bag was pulled roughly from Fudge's face. 

The man blinked several times as he tried to take in his new surroundings. Large purple blotches adorned his sweaty pale face and dried blood was smeared along his parted lips. It was obvious that he had received several beating in order to gain information that he was unwilling to give. His eyes darted wildly around the room in search of anything that would help him. The cool blues passed over Harry and then quickly returned, widening as they locked on his familiar face. 

"P..p..potter, " he stammered in bewilderment. Harry could see his gaze wander up to Voldemort, who was still standing with his hands resting on Harry's shoulders, before returning to his face. Harry flushed and tried to turn away but Voldemort held him steady. 

"So, Harry, which will it be, " Voldemort continued, ignoring Fudge's rambling. 

"I won't do this, " Harry repeated. He could feel the hands on his shoulders tighten painfully before they were removed. The Dark Lord emerged in front of him, all traces of a smile gone. 

"So you are content with letting him die?" The question rang in Harry's ears but he refused to rise to the bait. "I guess that does make sense. After all the Minister put you through, all those articles in the Daily Prophet. I don't blame you." 

"I…I'll tell you anything you want, " Fudge cried out suddenly. 

Voldemort turned an amused grin to the man kneeling before him. "Unfortunately, that is not the rules. You see, Fudge, Harry has to torture you first. If he continues to refuse however, he will watch as I kill you." His words came out smoothly as if merely discussing the rules of Quidditch. 

Biting his lower lip, Harry could see Fudge's pleading eyes turn to him. Crossing his arms, he turned his head away and shook it slightly, unable to bring himself to speak. How could he even be contemplating the idea?

"P..p..please, Harry." Fudge's pleading rang through the deathly silent room, forcing Harry to clench his eyes. 

"Do you not love it when they beg, Potter, " Voldemort asked softly and Harry could hear the smile returning. "What will it be?" 

Harry shook his head again, unwilling to answer.

"Five." 

His eyes snapped open and he turned to look at Voldemort. The man's eyebrows were raised as if waiting for an answer. Harry could only stare, stunned that he was being forced to choose.

"Four." 

Harry splayed his hands, his mouth falling open as if trying to force out an answer. 

"Three." 

Fudge was hysterical now. Tears poured from his swollen eyes as he rambled pleadingly for his life. 

"Two." 

Voldemort raised his wand to the Minister's temple which sent a fresh wave of sobs from the man's mouth. Harry's eyes shut tight as he tried to determine if he was even capable of performing the curse, but what choice did he have? He couldn't live with the fact that another person was dead because of him.

"On-" 

"Fuck! Fine! Fine, " he shouted out before Voldemort could finish the word. Opening his eyes, he fixed the man with a scathing look before producing his wand from inside his school cloak. They had allowed him to keep it upon his arrival, apparently all too aware of how broken-spirited he was.

Voldemort's pale face stretched into a sneer as he stepped aside, allowing Harry a clear line of sight to the blubbering man. 

"Just a minute will do, Potter, " he said casually, locking his hands behind his back. 

Raising his wand, Harry could see it shaking as his hand trembled violently. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his nerves, but his hammering heart had other plans. Fudge's eyes were closed now, braced for the pain he was willing to endure. 

"C..crucio." 

A roar of laughter broke from the previously silent crowd as Harry's nerve failed him. How was he supposed to perform the curse when he had no desire to see Fudge suffer? 

Voldemort stepped forward, clucking his tongue in mock disappointment. "Come now, Harry. Surely the Chosen One can do better than that." Grasping Harry's wrist, he helped level the wand at Fudge and with his other hand pulled Harry's head up so he was making direct eye contact. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and think about everything Fudge did to you this past year. Feel those emotions, that hatred you had for him as he spread lie after lie in order to make you seem like an unstable teenager." 

Harry didn't have to close his eyes to remember how much he had despised the man. He could easily remember the looks people had given him after reading the rubbish the Daily Prophet had written. He could remember the hate mail, how ostracized he'd felt; but most of all, he could remember Umbridge. Fudge had given her the power to make their year a living hell and deep down Harry knew he wanted to give him a little taste of the misery he had had to withstand all term. 

Clenching his teeth, he allowed those emotions to build inside him; the room fading away until it was only him and Fudge. 

"Crucio!" 

The curse spewed from his mouth like fire and he watched as Fudge doubled over in agony. His screams reverberated around the room until it sounded like it was coming from every direction. The man rolled to his side, his limbs flailing as he tried to escape the eminence pain that was coursing through his very bones. 

Realization hit him, and Harry jerked his wand up to break the spell. Fudge fell silent, his body curling into the fetal position at Harry's feet. Applause erupted around him, but he turned away; he couldn't bear to see the damage he had done. Silently he waited for Voldemort to ask for whatever he was seeking from Fudge, but no questions came. 

Turning his attention back to the center of the room, Harry had just enough time to see Cornelius rolling back onto his knees before Voldemort raised his wand. 

"Avada Kedavra, " he said softly. 

Blinding green light flashed across the room, followed by cheers from the watching crowd. Fudge's body fell lifeless onto the floor with a sickening thump. Harry's eyes widened and he brought his hand up to cover his open mouth. Turning, he made to sprint from the room; fleeing from the nightmare before him. However, a jink struck his knees, crippling him to the floor. His chest and forearms collided with the wood, sending his glasses skidding across the polished surface. He lay there fighting for air, but also trying to process what he had just witnessed. 

A high-pitched laugh came from behind him and slowly moved to stand between him and the exit. 

"Where are you going, Harry, " he asked with a soft chuckle. 

Struggling to his knees, Harry felt his queasiness turn to rage. Through the blurriness that surrounded him, he could see the tall figure stoop to retrieve the lost glasses before returning to stand over him. The pool of anger rose to Harry's lips and before he could suppress them, words began to spill out like lava. 

"You lied! You bloody said you wouldn't kill him, " he ground out through clenched teeth. "There wasn't any damn information, was there? This was just another one of your pointless games." 

He made to rise to his feet, but an invisible force pulled him back to his knees. Staring pointedly at the ground, Harry willed himself to calm down. One wrong word and he knew there would be a price; however, he was finding it hard to control his rising fury. 

"I think I like you better on your knees, Harry." 

"You can go to hell." The words slipped from his mouth before he could resist. 

He never saw the hand raise, but a sharp snap echoed around the room as silence fell over the Death Eaters once more. A hot flame spread across Harry's cheek and his head was knocked sideways. Licking his lips, he took a shaky breath but his temper would not be dampened. Snarling his nose, he made to rise to his feet again, but with a simple flick of his wand, Voldemort sent him back to his knees with bone-shattering force. 

"Still as stubborn as ever I see, " Voldemort hissed. Roughly he pressed the cracked glasses back onto the bridge of Harry's nose and stepped back to examine the boy. "Contrary to what you believe, Potter, Mr. Fudge had plenty of information that would have been useful to me. So, let this be a lesson, " he raised his voice so that everyone in the hall could hear him. "Anyone is expendable. It does not matter to me how useful you are, or what valuable knowledge you may think you have." 

Harry let out a snort of sarcastic laughter. "Right, that's the way you earn loyalty right there, " he mumbled. 

Voldemort fixed Harry with a blazing glare and in one swift motion, pulled him to his feet by the front of his vest. Jerking him around, the man turned Harry to face the crowd of Death Eaters, his fist still tightly balled around the boy's shirt. 

"Every person here knows the price of disobedience, Potter, " the man breathed in Harry's ear. Harry tried to move his head away, but Voldemort pressed in closer, his breath washing over Harry's skin. "It's right time you learned that." 

Releasing his hold on Harry, Voldemort waved a dismissive hand. "Leave us, " he said to the Death Eaters and slowly they began to file silently from the room. 

"I need you to return to the castle., " he began once they were alone. "Dumbledore has been very adamant about showing you these memories he has collected and I would be lying if said I was not intrigued." 

"I agreed to bring you the sword. I never said…" 

"You agreed to do a job for me. What did you think would happen once it was complete? Did you think that I would just let you go?" Voldemort returned to stand in front of Harry, his hands fiddling with his wand. A cold smile had crept onto his face and he was eyeing Harry playfully. "You can always return to the cellar. I am sure we could arrange another visit with Lucius." 

Setting his jaw, Harry's eyes narrowed. He considered his options for a moment before shrugging. "Fine. Lead the way, " he said simply. 

Voldemort let out a small amused laugh. "Your loyalties know no bounds do they, boy? I thought we might be passed this, but it seems I was mistaken. If you will wait here, I can send a message to your werewolf friend. It seems his presence is needed after all." 

Sighing, Harry knew the comment was made to remind him of why he had agreed to the task in the first place. He may be willing to sacrifice his own safety but he would not risk others. Voldemort had him right where he wanted him. 

"Can I go then, " he asked in an indirect agreement. 

Voldemort shook his head softly, his black hair swaying with the movement. "I need to hear it, Harry." 

Harry sucked his teeth but knew it was useless to argue. 

"I will…" 

Voldemort held up a hand, and Harry knew immediately what was expected of him. 

"From your knees, " the Dark Lord ordered coolly. 

Rolling his eyes, Harry dropped reluctantly to one knee. He could feel those red eyes watching him with enjoyment, but Harry couldn't bring himself to fight anymore. 

"Yes, sir," he said simply as he watched Voldemort nod in satisfaction.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished! The ending is a little abrupt, but I wanted to leave room to add alternate endings. I seriously considered having it all be a dream that Voldemort was manipulating and I may go back one day and write the ending for that. Thank you to everyone who's left kudos, commented, and stuck with it to the end. ❤️ you all!

The next morning arrived with overcast skies and heavy bouts of rain. Water poured from the castle's pitched roofs, wreaking havoc on those who were unfortunate enough to have classes outdoors. Between the torrential downpours, raging winds, and continuous lightening it was nearly impossible to reach the greenhouses let alone hold Care of Magical Creatures. However, this was the least of Harry's worries. 

He had arrived back at the castle just before daybreak, his clothes a muddy mess from the road. To his relief, he had made it back to the dormitory without incident, but after hurriedly discarding his filth covered robes, he had barely enough time to change for the day before his roommates awoke. He was forced to pretend that he was dressing for breakfast instead of climbing into bed for the first time. 

Ron accompanied him to breakfast, complaining incessantly about his restless night of sleep. Harry bit back a sarcastic reply and, instead, played the part of a concerned friend all the way to the Gryffindor table. He sat down quickly, reaching for a plate of bacon, thankful for the distraction. 

"How did your lessons with Dumbledore go, " Hermione asked, joining them at the table. She immediately buried her face into the morning's issue of the Daily Prophet. 

"We moved it to tonight, " he said wearily while poking a sausage onto his plate. He tried to stifle a yawn but failed as his mouth opened wide. "Filtch had some sort of problem." 

"Then where were you, " Ron asked, his brow furrowing. 

Harry felt his heart leap as he realized his mistake. He had had no time to prepare an excuse for his absence for most of the night, and he fumbled his words around in a panic. 

"I…I went to the library instead, " he finally spat out. "I'm so far behind in lessons that I took the invisibility cloak and stayed trying to get caught up." He shoved a bite of toast in his mouth as a reason to stop talking. 

Silence fell over them as they ate breakfast without speaking. Harry poked his food half-heartedly, fighting the urge to close his eyes. He was exhausted and part of him entertained the idea of returning to the dormitory and skipping the day's classes. Would Dumbledore know he had missed them? Would he ask why at the meeting later that evening? 

"Harry, what happened to your face?"

Hermione's question cut through his thoughts. Apparently finished with her paper, she had laid it aside and was now staring at Harry in concern. 

Harry brought a hand up to his cheek where he had been struck last night. He hadn't been aware that the slap had left a mark, but as his fingers brushed the skin a sharp pain radiated down to the bone. Massaging it gently, he made an extra effort in chewing his food in order to buy himself some time to fabricate another alibi. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he rolled his eyes as if to say it was something stupid before swallowing. "I accidentally knocked a book off the shelf." 

Ron let out a snort of laughter, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione's concerned expression wrinkle into suspicion. Besides being a bit laughable, he couldn't see a problem with his story. Perhaps he was misinterpreting her stare, but he couldn't chance her growing skeptical. Looking up at her, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

"What, " he asked, his tone coming out more cross than he had intended. 

Hermione continued to examine him before answering. "I just… well, you seem, " she began, obviously trying to find the right words that wouldn't set Harry off. Her brown eyes left Harry's to sweep his torso for half a second before returning. 

Instinctively, Harry crossed his arms over his burns as if her eyes could see through his robes to the bandages underneath. He felt his face flush and he looked down at his plate, a wave of involuntary panic rushing over him. Hermione was clever. If she even suspected something was wrong- 

"Careful, Harry, " came a soft voice inside his mind. " The Mudblood knows something."

Mumbling something incoherent, he grabbed his bag and rose from his seat. To aware of how guilty he already looked, Harry forced himself to walk from the Great Hall instead of sprinting. He mounted the stairs and turned into the first bathroom as his anxiety fought to control him. 

The edge of the porcelain sink was cold beneath his sweaty palms. Reaching up to the tap, he turned on the cold water and let it wash over his hands. He took several deep breaths to control his racing heart; the sound of the rushing faucet calming his nerves as he stood, head bowed to the mirror ahead. Hermione only suspected something was wrong, he assured himself. As long as she had no proof he could continue denying anything she assumed was going on. 

Letting out a slow steadying breath, Harry looked up into the mirror as a clap of thunder rattled the window panes. Staring back was a figure he did not recognize. Dark shadows lined underneath his eyes, making them seem almost hollow. A bright purple bruise highlighted his right cheekbone which jutted out over his thin face. A surge of grief tore through him as his mind immediately went to the first pictures he'd seen of Sirius in the Daily Prophet after he had escaped Azkaban. Closing his eyes, he turned away, unable to stomach the thought. 

The door behind him opened and he quickly returned to washing his hands. The soft click of the lock sliding into place caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder. Hermione was standing at the entrance, a look of determination on her face. She took several slow steps towards him, glancing under the stalls to assure they were alone before speaking. 

"Harry, I know something is wrong, " she said cautiously. 

Harry pulled together a bewildered look. "I don't know what you're on about, " he reassured her but as she took another advancing step, Harry instinctively retreated until his back collided with the sink basin. 

Stopping at arm's length, her expression changed to worry as she struggled to find the words to convince him. "Harry, I know you didn't have a meeting with Dumbledore that day at Hogsmeade, " she began, her voice barely audible over the rain now battering the glass. "And I saw your b..bloody shirt when we came into the dorm and the way you were obviously in pain." She looked away, her cheeks flushing. 

Harry struggled to keep the fear from rising to his face. "Hermione, " he began but his words faltered. How could he possibly explain this? "They're old wounds that won't heal. That's all. I left Hogsmeade because they were bleeding." 

"Harry Potter, don't lie to me, " she snapped, turning back to face him, her eyes misty with tears but nonetheless deterred. She reached out a hand and grabbed the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up. 

Harry pushed her hand away and leaned back against the sink as anger swept over him. "I don't know what to tell you, " he said, willing his voice to remain calm. 

"How about the truth, " she pleaded. "Where were you last night? And don't say the library because I was there and…" 

"Just drop it, " Harry interrupted forcefully. Pushing away from the sink, he brought himself to full height and looked down at her, amusement not his own filling his head. " Please," he added, and he was surprised at how broken he sounded. 

"Come now, Harry. Tell her, " the voice mused. "Maybe you could bring her with you next time." 

Harry shook his head, fear boiling over as the next words spilled from his mouth. "I just need you to trust me, please." 

Hermione's frown deepened. She opened her mouth, the intent to argue written all over her face but she stopped suddenly. Realization caused her shoulders to drop, and pressing her lips together, she nodded in agreement. "Okay, Harry, " she said gently; reaching a hand up, she smoothed away the bangs that had fallen into his eyes. 

Without thinking, Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face deep into the top of her bushy hair. He clenched his eyes tight as she returned the hug, unwilling to let the tears escape. Anger and fear melted away, replaced instead with a warming peace as he held her tight. Even more to his surprise, Harry found that for the first time in a while his mind was completely clear. 

Hermione took a step back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "We'll be late if we don't go." 

The remainder of the day passed without incident. Harry drug himself from one class to the next, barely managing to stay awake during the majority of his lessons. Hermione had been kind enough to offer encouragement by either elbowing or kicking him under the table when he began to doze off. The only Professor to notice was McGonagall who quickly scolded him before continuing her lecture on transforming their animals. 

At six o'clock Harry begrudgingly climbed the staircase to the Headmaster's office. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep but he knew that skipping this lesson was not an option. Voldemort's excitement had been building within him all afternoon despite his own feelings of panic. What could Voldemort's past hold that was so important to everyone? Rapping his knuckles against the door, Harry paused for half a second before letting himself in. 

Professor Dumbledore was not sitting behind his desk as he normally was. Glancing around, Harry saw his slender figure in front of an open window, apparently lost completely in thought. The old man's hands were clasped behind his back, his good hand clutching the injured one above the blackened skin. He did not turn to address Harry, instead, he continued to stare into the torrent of falling rain. 

Harry watched him for a minute, the blustering wind billowing his long robes behind him, before he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Dumbledore turned, a look of surprise stretching his face. 

"Ah, Harry, " he said while closing the window against the oncoming gale. "Please forgive me. My old ears are not what they use to be." 

Harry smiled in response but remained quiet. He followed the Headmaster to their normal seats, sinking slowly into the cushioned wingback. It wasn't until then that he noticed the absence of the pensive on the parchment-covered desktop. He looked up at Professor Dumbledore, confusion clear on his face. 

" Professor, I thought we would be looking at memories tonight." 

"Yes, of course, " Dumbledore said, leaning back into his chair. His blue eyes fixed on Harry as an indiscernible expression darkened his face. Harry tried to ignore the suspicion now tickling his brain as the Headmaster continued. "We will get to that. First, however, I must reiterate how proud I am of you, Harry. The bravery you have exhibited these long few months is no small feat. Wizards much older and wiser than yourself have given in to Voldemort's desires with much less coercion." 

"I…" Harry's words caught in his throat as he thought of his actions last night and the betrayal he would soon be committing. If Dumbledore only knew the truth. He dropped his gaze to the fraying hem of his robes, a wave of guilt drowning his thoughts. 

"Perhaps," Dumbledore continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. Looking up he saw the older man lean forward now to set his elbows on the desk, flesh-covered fingers steepling with their decayed counterparts. A sudden sense of anticipation awaited those next words as Dumbledore's expression changed clearly to that of dread. "Your most courageous act was returning to him last night." 

A fierce division of emotions swept through Harry. Fear, confusion, rage, all collided at once as he tried to separate his own thoughts from Voldemort's. Strengthening in his chair, he poised himself to run. But where would he go? What was Dumbledore playing at? 

"I…I don't know what you mean, " he denied feebly. 

Professor Dumbledore gave a weary smile as he studied Harry over his half-moon glasses. 

"I told you a few weeks ago that I needed you to persevere until I could find a way to break the connection that allows Voldemort to control your thoughts." 

Fury like nothing he had ever felt before sparked inside him and his scar gave a painful throb. His heart beat violently against his breast bone, fighting to free itself. It was if it knew the body it resided in was about to sustain a tremendous amount of agony and it wanted no part. 

"You insolent little brat, " Voldemort raged inside him. "When I get my hands on you, you will regret lying to me. I am going to make you watch as I tear the Werewolf limb from limb." 

"Stop, " Harry pleaded. Dropping his head to his hands, he clutched his hair, willing the voices to stop. A hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, but Harry tried to shrug it away. "You've killed him, " he whispered but couldn't finish with an explanation. 

"Harry, " Dumbledore continued softly. "I could not find a way to break the connection you share with Voldemort, however, I did take away the remainder of the leverage he held against you." 

Harry raised his head to find that it wasn't the Headmaster's hand on his shoulder. Sitting in the chair next to him, an encouraging smile on his worn face, was Remus Lupin. His own relief overtook Voldemort's rage and Harry was able to think clearly for the first time. He turned a hopeful gaze back to Professor Dumbledore. 

" What about the rest, " he asked quickly. 

"The remainder of the Order has been given the highest forms of protections, " Dumbledore assured him, but he did not smile. The somber look continued to crease his face and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. "You have no reason to return. However, I am afraid there is still one obstacle you must overcome." 

Harry's stomach dropped. He felt Remus's grip tighten on his shoulder as he fell back into his seat. As if on cue, the world around him began to fade away. The edges of his vision dimmed and panic began to set in. He had one last glimpse of Dumbledore quickly rounding his desk and the last words he heard before everything was gone. 

"It's not real, Harry!" 

Groggily, Harry forced his heavy eyelids open, blinking several times to push the fog from his brain. He was painfully aware of the iron cuffs digging into his raw wrists as they supported his limp weight. Dropping his head back, he let his glasses slide back to the bridge of his nose before examining the room around him. Iron sconces held half-melted candles that were casting a dull flickering amber light around the small room. The wet stone walls were all too familiar and he felt his heart sink. He was hanging in the center of the cellar at Malfoy Manor.

"Well Potter, I thought we were making progress." Voldemort stepped into view from beside the door, his face holding nothing but disappointment. "No matter. We can start fresh." 

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found his voice nearly broken. "I…don't…understand" he croaked through his raw throat. It was as if he hadn't used his voice in weeks. 

Voldemort let out a cool laugh as he stepped closer to where Harry was suspended. "Oh, Harry. Surely you did not believe all of that was real, did you," he mused playfully. 

"You're lying," Harry said hoarsely but he couldn't deny the panic now coursing through him. 

Voldemort reached a hand up to grasp Harry's chin with his long fingers. "I do not lie, boy."

He clenched his eyes shut and tried to jerk his head away, refusing to believe the man. How could the last month have been a fabrication? Everything he had gone through, all the people he had talked too; surely Voldemort was not powerful enough to manipulate his mind to that extent. 

"This isn't real, " he seethed through clenched teeth. 

"Open your eyes and tell me that again, Potter." 

Harry shook his head shortly, but something sharp was now resting against his shoulder, the edge prodding his flesh as it jabbed through his shirt. He tried to cringe away, but Voldemort's grip on his chin tightened. 

"I said open your eyes." 

Harry pried his eyes open and stared determinedly into his assaulter's face. Voldemort was pressing a dagger against Harry's right collar bone, a look of hunger in his gleaming red eyes. 

"Tell me again this is not real, " he repeated with a cruel sneer. 

"This isn't-" but Harry's words were cut short as the knife dug into his skin. Layer after layer of flesh gave way as the sharp tip split them apart like paper, stopping only when it reached the solid bone. Harry bit back a cry despite the burning fire that accompanied each penetrated membrane. He could feel the warm blood seeping down his chest as it was pushed out with each rapid beat of his heart.

"Surely we can do better than that, " Voldemort whispered as he bared down on the hilt jutting from Harry's shoulder. 

The edge of the knife bore into Harry's bone and he gritted his teeth against the rising pain. A growl rumbled in his chest, but he refused to let it manifest further. This only seemed to drive Voldemort's desires higher. A loud crack echoed off the stone walls, but it went unnoticed as a scream tore from Harry's lungs. The remainder of the knife sank past the now shattered bone, burying itself to the hilt. Despite his best efforts, Harry could not escape the pain. He flung his head back only to find Voldemort's grasp holding him in place. He trashed in vain against the man's unwavering clutch. 

"That's it, Harry. Scream for me, " he said through a sickening smile. 

Every movement resulted in a fresh wave of anguish as the bone popped against the foreign object dividing it. Harry prayed for the shock to come. He prayed that his limb would go numb as he curled his left fingers around the chain supporting him, trying to relieve pressure from his mangled arm. His filth covered trainers scraped at the dusty cobblestones, but he was too high to stand. 

"Tell me again, " Voldemort repeated once Harry's screams had faded to heavy gasps. 

"Y...you're a b…b…bastard," Harry stuttered defiantly. 

A hard force connected with his jaw, spinning his head to the side. He lost his grip on the chain and the weight returned to his broken shoulder with a sudden jolt. Stomach turning, he gaged as the sour taste of dinner threatened to spill from his open mouth. Voldemort however, gave him no time to recover. He had moved to stand behind the boy now. Slipping his long, blood-covered fingers along Harry's scalp, he pulled the hair taut. 

A voice echoed through his mind, calling softly as if it were miles away. "It's not real, Harry."

Wait, if this was real, why was he tasting the beef stew he had had for dinner at the castle? 

"You can fight this, " the voice called more clearly and this time Harry recognized it as Professor Dumbledore. 

"Is it real, Potter, " Voldemort asked softly in Harry's ear. He pulled against the hair until Harry's head was resting against his chest. The other hand reached around until it was holding the knife again. 

Harry clamped his teeth on the string of swears streaming from his lips. "Stop, " he sputtered as he felt the blade being moved back and forth. 

"Do you think, " Voldemort continued angrily, his lips nearly pressed against Harry's ear now. He thrust the knife back to the hilt, causing Harry to cry out wildly. "I am not capable of breaking you mentally." The last word was punctuated with another push of the handle. 

"You can fight him, Harry." 

Taking a shaking breath, Harry clenched his eyes close and thought back to the last month at Hogwarts. He thought about the time he had spent with Hermione and Ron in the Hospital Wing, the comfort Remus had given him during his panic attack, and the unwavering friendship Hermione had exhibited in the bathroom that very afternoon. Those had been the only times Harry had been able to think clearly. 

"This isn't real, " Harry said firmly and this time he knew it was true. 

The room around him faded slightly and he was briefly able to see Dumbledore and a pale Remus kneeling over him. However, the dungeon overtook the image again and Voldemort was standing before him once more. 

"It does not matter whether this is real or not, Potter, " he exploded. "I can keep you here and shred your mind piece by piece. I can make you feel pain that you have never dreamed of." 

"No, " Harry blurted out sternly and the room dimmed again. He let that warm feeling of comfort Hermione had given him earlier consume him. He had friends that loved him and that was all he needed to take control of his own mind. 

The cellar walls dissolved around him until he was staring up at the high rafters of the Headmaster's office. Sitting up in a panic, he grabbed at his right shoulder, only to find it completely intact. It had felt so real, but there was no wound or pain as he felt along the protruding bone. Looking around wildly, he could see Professor Dumbledore and Remus kneeling at his side, both staring at him apprehensively. 

"How do you feel, Harry," Dumbledore asked. 

He had to admit despite the throbbing of the burns on his chest and back he felt better. "I…I think I'm okay," he said hesitantly as if admitting it would suddenly bring him back to the cellar. 

Grabbing underneath his arms, the two adults helped Harry back into the chair. Dumbledore returned to his seat as well, and for a long minute, they sat in silence. Harry continued to stare at the rug beneath his feet, afraid to believe that it was truly over. Yet, his mind remained quiet. 

"Professor, how do I know that he's really gone," he inquired, finally voicing his fears. 

Professor Dumbledore remained silent, and Harry was forced to look up into those blue eyes studying him. The Headmaster swept his gaze across the boy's face before answering. 

" I do not always have the correct answers, Harry. That is too evident by the mess we found ourselves in this year, but, " he paused and let out a small sigh. "I believe that Voldemort has become leary of this connection. After the way you took control of your own thoughts, I would dare to say he is afraid that the roles might be reversed." 

"He's afraid Harry would be able to control his thoughts?" asked Remus as he perched himself on the edge of the remaining chair. 

Dumbledore raised his wispy brows. "Harry has demonstrated an extraordinary talent for spying on the Dark Lord's thoughts without even trying. Now that he knows what he is capable of, Voldemort may believe he can do much more." 

Harry's forehead creased in skepticism. He allowed his mind to wander, searching for something inside that would indicate Voldemort's presence. Finding only silence, he turned his attention back to the two men talking. 

"What do we do now, " he asked abruptly. 

"First I think it wise to have Madam Pomfrey examine those burns, but before we do anything I would like to relieve some of your guilt. The sword you took from my office last night was a fake." 

A small glimmer of relief brightened inside him only to be consumed moments later by a fresh wave of self-loathing as images of last night filled his mind. He remembered the screams of the man he tortured; the unnatural way his body contorted as he tried in vain to escape the pain. He remembered the laughter of the Death Eaters that surrounded him; their cries of approval. Most of all however, he remembered the flash of green light and the sickening thud of dead weight against hard wood. 

"I…" he began but suddenly his mouth was dry. He struggled to find the words to describe what he'd witnessed; no, what he had done, but they evaded him. Finally, he spit out the only sentence his numb brain could produce. "Fudge is dead." 

Shock pulled the old man's eyes wide, and Lupin's head spun in Harry's direction. They gaped at him, apparently too confused for words.

"He was there, last night, I…I." No matter how hard Harry fought, the words would not come. He tipped his head back until he was staring at the ceiling and brought his shaking hands up to cover his face. Admitting what he'd done to Fudge, how he'd stood over him while he screamed for mercy; the thought alone was enough to cripple him. 

"Harry, this is not your fault," said Professor Dumbledore, regaining his composure. "Look at me, Harry." 

Harry's head snapped forward, a sudden wave of anger surging through him. " Don't say that to me," he snapped viciously. Voldemort had used that phrase countless times and hearing it now, in what he believed was safety, set his skin on fire. 

Professor Dumbledore straightened in his chair. "I'm sorry, Harry. I put you in a situation where you had to make impossible decisions. You have proven time and again your trust and loyalty for me, and I have given you little in return. Once your injuries have been treated and you have had time to rest, I will answer any questions you have to the best of my knowledge." 

Staring into those blue eyes, Harry felt his rage calm. He nodded slowly, and a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. Remus gripped his arm comfortingly and gave him a soft smile. He was suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was.


End file.
